


Crystal Lake

by bubblegumtrixie



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Gore, Cis boy!au, F/F, Friday The Thirteenth, Lesbian AU, Major Character Injury, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Smut, angsty smut, cis girl!au, listen idk how else to tag this ITS A FRIDAY THE 13TH AU, trixya - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-13 13:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14113449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumtrixie/pseuds/bubblegumtrixie
Summary: She didn’t even know why she had taken this job; or why any of them did. They weren’t exactly in love with the idea of staying in decrepit old cabins, spending their long-awaited summer in the middle of the woods trying to repair the place, and then having to take care of a bunch of snotty kids. As Trixie glazed over the car, she didn’t exactly see anyone that fit the camp counselor archetype of a pudgy, smiling girl with acne that sang camp songs in a nasally voice. All she saw were a bunch of high school grads looking for a quick buck, and maybe a secluded spot to have sex.





	1. Summer of '84

**Author's Note:**

> !!QUICK DISCLAIMER!!
> 
> I DIDNT WRITE THIS TO WRITE QUEENS I DISLIKE BEING KILLED IN GRUESOME WAYS. I LOVE ALL THESE QUEENS. I JUST ALSO LOVE FRIDAY THE 13TH AND PPL GOTTA DIE BITCH!! ALSO THIS IS NSFW AND KINDA FUCKED UP SO IF THATS NOT UR THING READ SMTH ELSE. ITS A TOTAL CRACK FIC SO RELAX ITS NOT THAT DEEP.
> 
> okay now that people who don't wanna read are gone, welcome! this is just something I wrote bc I love this franchise and drag race... why not combine em? plus watching trixie play the game def helped. also this is very centered on trixie and katya, the others are mostly supporting characters but I try to give em some good stuff too. enjoy and feel free to yell and conspire in the comments. (P.S this first chapter is mostly just exposition but it gets better I promise!!)

The hot summer air swamped the car the teenagers were crammed into, legs folded practically into their chests, groaning and desperately trying to fan themselves with maps and old brochures. The countryside rolled lazily by the windows—all signs of the city had become sparse long ago, then vanished, and now they were deep into the backcountry. The road must have been last paved thirty years ago, and with every jolt sweaty skin brushed sweaty skin and they all hissed.

 

“Jesus Christ, where the hell is this place?” Adore whined. She slammed her head back on the headrest and propped her sneakers on the dashboard, adjusting her bra straps which dug into her shoulder blades. She wouldn’t have even bothered wearing one, if she knew it was going to be this unbearably warm. 

 

“I know what the fuck I’m doing,” Bob replied smoothly. He sat back in his seat and scanned the horizon. “You all did take my maps, so thanks a lot. Really fuckin’ helpful.”

 

“Take mine, you pig!” Violet shouted. She tossed her now crumpled map into the front seat and sat back, spreading her legs in an attempt to cool off while running a hand through her frizzy hair. Trixie huffed and squished herself even harder against the window. She burned her arm on the seatbelt, for the fucking hundredth time, and drew back, cursing under her breath. She had her fluffy blonde hair tied back underneath a sun hat, which was now soaked with sweat around her forehead. She was hot, carsick, and miserable. 

 

She didn’t even know why she had taken this job; or why _any_ of them did. They weren’t exactly in love with the idea of staying in decrepit old cabins, spending their long-awaited summer in the middle of the woods trying to repair the place, and then having to take care of a bunch of snotty kids. As Trixie glazed over the car, she didn’t exactly see anyone that fit the camp counselor archetype of a pudgy, smiling girl with acne that sang camp songs in a nasally voice. All she saw were a bunch of high school grads looking for a quick buck, and maybe a secluded spot to have sex. She glanced at Violet, who adjusted her tits under her tank top and winked when she caught her eye. Scratch the maybe. 

 

“A-ha!” Bob exclaimed, breaking Trixie’s thought. “Found you, motherfucker!” He swerved to the left, sitting up straight in his seat, and everyone else followed suit, suddenly reinvigorated with the promise that they would soon be in the camp. 

 

“Look! There it is! Fuck yeah!” Adore cried. She pointed a painted fingernail in front of her and slapped the dashboard to punctuate her sentence. Trixie cranked down the window as fast as she could and stuck her head out the window, the hot sun and stuffy air greeting her pleasantly, and gazed at the camp in the distance. The car rolled slowly past a sign, yellowed with age and slightly crooked in the sun-cracked earth that read:

WELCOME TO

CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE  
EST. 1935

 

Trixie looked in awe at the sign for a moment before she felt Violet grope her by the hips and yank her back inside the car, screaming with laughter. “You’re gonna get your head cut off, you stupid fuck!” she said, but she was grinning ear to ear. Her hands travelled down over her thigh, dancing off of her knee, then rested back in her own lap. Trixie swallowed a little—if this was any premonition of the rest of this trip, she was really in for it. 

 

Bob drove up to the main cabin, where he saw only two other cars, one of which must belong to the owner, he mused. He bit the inside of his cheek and glanced around, slowly pulling into the empty lot and taking the key out of the ignition. The building was surprisingly new looking, its door freshly painted, nails driven tightly into each board. The other cabins weren’t so lucky. While they had been made somewhat habitable, they still looked far from cozy—even at this distance Bob could see that. He sighed and kicked open the door of the car. 

 

Gravel crunched underfoot as the teenagers practically threw themselves out of the vehicle, sighing and relishing in the fresh air. It was still terribly hot, with the sun now beating down on their heads and necks, but it was already a mile better than being inside that steel hotbox. 

 

“Well, looks like you lost the bet, Kat,” somebody drawled. The weary group paused in the middle of their celebration to look up, squinting against the harsh sun in the direction of the voice. 

 

Alaska was leaning against the cool wall of the cabin nonchalantly, inspecting her too-long nails and scanning over the group. Bob adjusted the bag on his shoulder unsteadily. Her bleached blonde hair was in a messy ponytail, and she had on a big-brimmed hat that encapsulated her in shadow

 

“Mhm,” the other blonde—Katya—hummed. She sweeped her permed hair over her shoulder and flashed a blindingly white smile before giggling at Alaska. “Thank God, too, because these are some hot pieces of ass. Would have been a shame if they cannibalized eachother on the side of the road like I suspected.” 

 

Trixie shielded her eyes from the sun in order to get a better look at the two. “Nice to meet you, too,” she said dryly, smacking her bubblegum and blowing a small bubble. 

 

“Are you the other counselors?” Adore asked. Katya snorted. 

 

“No, it’s ya aunties Trish and Sharon, ya fay-vorite lesbian life partnas, scissorin’ eachother in ya little brotha’s room till’ the sun comes up.” She put on a smoker’s voice with a drawled Bostonian accent, and then started to laugh hysterically at her own impression and the confused faces of the other teenagers. 

 

“Don’t be such a fucking ditz, Adore, of course they’re the other counselors!” Violet sneered. She had started looking the other two up and down hungrily, scanning over what was exposed of their sun kissed skin. Katya was returning the gaze, but her eyes kept flickering to Trixie, back and forth, Trixie to Violet, Violet to Trixie. Trixie cleared her throat gently and adjusted her short skirt in a futile attempt to pull it down. She could feel herself being undressed with their eyes. 

 

“Aren’t there supposed to be seven of us?” Bob asked, walking around to the trunk of the car to grab the rest of their bags. 

 

“Yep, D.J is with Bianca trying to fix an old boarded up window,” Alaska explained. Bob couldn’t read her feelings behind that monotone voice and those sunglasses. She just seemed endlessly bored. 

 

Adore went with Bob and grabbed her bag, hoisting it over her shoulder. “Can I get, like, water or something? It’s hot as balls out here.”

 

The group was led inside, sighing with relief to be in the shade. They even had some fans turned to full speed, which were probably the most modern things in the entire building—maybe the entire camp. 

 

“Home sweet home,” Violet said, tossing her bag onto the floor and reclining herself on the couch. She put a hand over her eyes delicately and sighed. 

 

“Wouldn’t get too comfortable,” Katya leaned over Violet with a shit-eating grin on her face. Her hair tickled Violet’s nose and her breasts were nearly spilling out of her push up bra. “This isn’t your cabin. We’ve all got our own little homes, isn’t that so sweet? They smell like rat shit.”

 

“Sounds like you really would be at home,” Alaska chimed dryly, and Katya started to wheeze with laughter.

 

“Oh, you cunt! You fucking—You—You hoe-bag! I hate you!”

 

“Watch your language, you fucking spastic,” someone barked. Everyone visibly jumped, and Adore even let out a small yelp, clutching her heart. 

 

Bianca Del Rio, the owner of Camp Crystal Lake for generations, put her weathered hands on her hips. Uneven nails with chipped nail polish tapped at the leather of her belt as she eyed the counselors. 

 

“Sorry, Ms. Del Rio,” Adore said reflexively. Her heart was still pounding. 

 

“Just call me Bianca,” the woman responded. She wore too much eye makeup, Adore thought, but said nothing. D.J stood diligently at her side and waggled his fingers at the others. 

 

“I know you all must be exhausted, but we’ve got a lot of work to do around this place before we re-open, and we’ve only got a couple weeks to do it. I cant have you all dying of heat stroke, though, so you’re going to go fix up the dock. You all can swim, right?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” the group murmured, slightly out of sync. 

 

“Good. And you’re all young adults, so I’m going to trust you to be responsible and do as you’re told, alright?” She folded her arms and sighed. “I thought I packed enough supplies, but apparently not, so I have to go back into town and get some more. I probably won’t be back until tonight.” 

 

The teenagers were practically shaking with excitement, but they couldn’t show it. Instead, they all nodded obediently. Bianca looked distrustful, but sighed, clearly too tired to think twice or try to figure out another solution. “I’ve told D.J here about the backup generators and all that other crap in case something goes wrong,” she explained. “We’ve got phones and everything here, so you can call if you need me, alright? Emergency numbers are on the fridge.” 

 

With that, she was gone, turning on her heel and her blouse rippling slightly in the wind as she made her way towards her jeep. As soon as she had come, she had left, and now the counselors who had arrived late had only spoken about two words to her. 

 

“ _Fuck_ yes!” Adore squealed, breaking the silence. “Now this is what I came for. C’mon, you squares, we’re about to have the time of our fucking _lives_.”

 

“Oh, y’all heard what Miss Bianca said,” D.J interjected. He put his hands in the pockets of his short-shorts and stood a little straighter. “We gotta be doin’ some work, too. I don’t know about y’all, but I came to get stuff done.”

 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun!” Bob said. “Come _on,_ this is a _summer camp._ I mean, shit, I’m all for getting the job done, but there’s no fuckin’ way I’m not having a good time while we do it.”

 

Trixie couldn’t keep her eyes off of Katya as they approached the shore of the lake. She was thin and slight, yet her tanned muscles flexed and rippled when she moved, veins standing out on her arms and her thighs clearly toned. She had to be one of the most athletic looking girls she’d ever seen and, for some reason, it drove her crazy. 

 

Shaking her head to clear it, Trixie sat on the bank of the lake, the soft grass pleasantly cool on her thighs beneath the large oak tree behind her. Staring at the lake hurt her eyes, with its sun glinting and reflecting off the blue waters, but it was hypnotizingly beautiful. Either that or the sun was melting her brain. Both were equally likely. 

 

“Hey, cutie,” she heard Katya whisper, and was jerked out of her trance almost immediately. The dirty blonde gazed down at her with a smile before she sat down next to her, her shorts riding up slightly. “What brings you to this crack den of a camp? It really was a crack den for a bout in the seventies, you know that?”

 

Trixie giggled and adjusted her sun hat so her eyes were more shaded. “Probably the same reason everyone else is here.”

 

“Sex?”

 

“No,” Trixie felt her face heat up, but it wasn’t a hot flash. “Money, duh. I needed something to do before I go to college next year.”

 

“Congratulations, Trix,” Katya said, and Trixie noticed for the first time she seemed to have some kind of an accent, though it was faint. “I think you’re the only one of us here that isn’t a deadbeat.”

 

“I heard that, whore,” Adore shouted over her shoulder as she threw off her shirt. 

 

Katya ignored the comment and simply scooted closer to the curvy girl. Her laquered nails gently grabbed her wrist and squeezed, and Trixie shivered. Katya peered at her through her lashes, almost studying her. 

 

In a stupor, Trixie blurted, “So, where are you from?” _Idiot, s_ he thought. 

 

Katya laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Did my accent come out?” She tapped her cherry red lips for emphasis. “I’m originally from Russia; my full name is actually Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. My family and I moved here when I was but a babe.”

 

“You still are a babe.”

 

“You know what I mean!” She slapped Trixie on the shoulder, but bit her lip as she did so. “Anyways, I can still speak Russian and have a little bit of an accent. Mostly from my parents.”

 

“Wait a minute, you’re a Ruskie?” Bob asked incredulously. “Aren’t we at war with your people? You better be on our side, my dad fought in ‘Nam, so I know a thing or two.”

 

“Easy, soldier,” Katya rolled her eyes and saluted lazily at Bob. “I’m no commie. Just your average, unmannered, overbearing, sexy Russian hooker who was so turned on by the American soldiers pillaging her village she had to come here and blow them in the barracks.” Bob laughed heartily, doubling over, but Trixie felt a small twitch in her lower stomach at the image of Katya on her knees, gazing up at a soldier, her lipstick smeared and drool dripping from her mouth. 

 

“Hey!” Violet shouted, breaking Trixie from her fantasy. She was pulling her shorts down around her calves and stepping out of them. “Who else is gonna come swim with me?”

 

“Mmm, Jason will!” Alaska called back, earning a laugh from Katya. 

 

“Who the hell is Jason?” Violet asked. She pursed her lips and put her hands on her hips, obviously feeling left out. 

 

Alaska went slack-jawed. “You don’t know who Jason is?! Do you guys even know why this place was closed for so long?” This was the first time she seemed to have any emotion in her voice all day. 

 

“Oh my God, just tell us!” Adore demanded. 

 

“Jason was a little boy who came to this camp about thirty-some years ago, in ‘57,” Katya began. “He was funny looking, so all these kids would pick on him, even the counselors, right? Well, one day, he fell into the lake, and he couldn’t swim. He was calling for help, but the two counselors nearby were fucking, and they ignored him. So he drowned, right here, in the lake.” Katya was smiling, and Violet rubbed her arms.  

 

“Then, his mom went psycho. She came back the next year, found the counselors having sex, and stabbed them to death. She had a murder rampage, slitting throats, axing people in the face—“

 

“Oh, God, that’s sick,” Violet murmured. Trixie was a little shocked; she had never seen her so deeply perturbed. 

 

“Uh-huh. Eventually one of the counselors got her, chopped off her head. But they say Jason is still alive, taking revenge on any counselors and trespassers for his mother.”

 

The teens were all quiet, looking around at one another, before Katya collapsed in a wheezing fit of laughter. She kicked her legs and fell back into Trixie’s lap, who stiffened up and winced slightly. “Oh my God, you guys are pussies!” she screeched. “You—Violet, your face!”

 

“You’re one nasty bitch, Katya,” Violet said through gritted teeth before continuing to undress. 

 

“Oh, you haven’t seen how nasty I really am, baby,” Katya purred. Trixie shifted and tilted her head back in a desperate attempt to collect herself. 

 

“Let’s find out how nasty _all_ of us are instead of talking about some dead kid.” Adore unhooked her own bra and let it fall to the floor. She winked, snapped the waistband of her own panties teasingly, then ran and dove into the lake. 

 

Katya squeaked with excitement and bolted up, starting to tear off her own clothes. “Wait up! You sluts better let me see those tits up close, or I’m gonna need a refund.”

 

Trixie watched with an insatiable hunger as Katya shrugged off her garments and started to pull her hair back. God, how she wanted to feel her hair, yank it, wrap it around her fingers. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes before swallowing with some difficulty at the image in her head. She pinched herself when she saw Katya’s bare chest and torso; good Lord, she had _abs._ She closed his eyes again, shaking her head to clear it and squeezing her legs together. She didn’t know if this was her wildest dream or her worst nightmare. 

 

“Hey, are you comin’ in?” Bob asked, unbuttoning his shirt and eyeing Trixie curiously. He seemed to be aware of what she was thinking. 

 

“Oh, um,” Trixie’s eyes flickered from the girls splashing in the lake to D.J, who was beginning to untie a rope around the docks. “No, thanks. I’m gonna go help D.J. Maybe later.”

 

Bob shrugged. “Suit yourself, girl.”

 

Trixie sighed, gazing wistfully as she watched Bob jog down the shore towards the girls splashing and diving in the cool waters, then stood up, smoothed her skirt and made her way towards the dock. 

 

D.J had discarded his shirt, and was sweating buckets as he worked. His well kept afro was slightly damp around his forehead and neck. “Lordy, this place is hotter than the damn savannah,” he sighed, wiping his jaw as he turned to look at Trixie. “I’m surprised you ain’t swimmin’.”

 

“Well, we’re gonna have to swim to fix this up, anyways.” Trixie shrugged and adjusted her shirt to cover her cleavage. “May as well get some work done.”

 

D.J flashed a smile and hit Trixie goodnaturedly on the back. “Halleloo, I like the way you think!” Trixie glanced down at the cross necklace D.J had secured tightly around his neck. D.J grinned once again when he caught his eye. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna preach to you about the Lord. I am gonna thank him for your help, though.” Trixie giggled, wading waist-deep into the water and alongside D.J and began pulling the floating dock out, grateful for the cool water against her skin, the mud slipping under her feet. Maybe she could get used to this place. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of strip poker, seemingly-innocent tea making, and our first victim of the night. So it begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY same disclaimers as before cause this is where it starts to get juicy! I already had this chapter ready, and I just couldn't wait to post it, so y'all are in luck! The other chapters should be spread out more evenly, maybe once or twice a week? I'm just having so much fun writing so who knows? Enjoy!

“Gather ‘round, kiddies, it’s time to play!”   
  
Katya tossed aside her bag and grabbed a deck of cards from the coffee table. She sat on the couch and glanced eagerly up at the other counselors, her eyes already glowing with mischief. 

 

After swimming for awhile and setting up the docks, clouds had finally begun to roll in, cooling the air only slightly, but at least shielding them all from the sun on their walk back to the cabin. They were exhausted and dehydrated, and luckily there was plenty of beer in the fridge to keep them all well refreshed. 

 

“What’re we gonna play?” Adore asked as she sat down next to Katya and rested her head on the blonde’s shoulder. 

 

“Strip poker, duh! We can use bottle caps as chips!” Katya smiled and started to shuffle the cards, while Violet snorted. 

 

“Mmm, sounds boring. Can’t we just get naked altogether, no games, nothing?” 

 

“The poker is what makes it _fun,_ ” Alaska said. She took off her sunglasses and slipped them into the collar of her shirt. “I’ll be happy to steal money from you bitches and get a show while I’m at it.” 

 

Trixie took a sip of her beer and tapped her fingers restlessly on the wooden table. The sun was barely beginning to dip behind the mountains, and she was finally realizing what she had really signed up for, though she didn’t exactly know how to feel about it. She was from the country, so it wasn’t like she wasn’t used to camping or being left to her resources—she had worked at a small restaurant down in Wisconsin during the winter with a shotgun and flares in the back in case they were snowed in (not to mention handling a bunch of rich white hunters constantly flirting and touching her was a survival skill of its own). But she didn’t exactly trust any of the others to do the same. 

 

Suddenly there was hot breath on her ear that drove all of these thoughts out of her head. Violet’s hands snaked over her shoulders and wrapped around her chest, squeezing, gently trailing over her shirt. She raked her nails up Trixie’s arms and leaned down to press her nose against her neck, causing the blonde to inhale sharply. 

 

“You gonna play, too, baby?” she whispered breathily. Trixie felt a jolt run up her spine and clenched her bottle tighter. Violet continued to breathe against Trixie’s neck, ignoring the choked whine she attempted to pass off a reply. 

 

“Oh, leave the poor girl alone!” D.J called from the kitchen as he fixed himself coffee. “If she doesn’t wanna play, you can’t make her!”

 

“Yeah, but we can make fun of her,” Bob replied as he joined the other girls on the couch. “I mean, come on! Live a little!” Trixie laughed dryly and attempted to shake the feeling of Violet’s breath against her skin as she downed another swig of her beer. 

 

Katya was still shuffling and dealing cards, but when Trixie looked up, she could see her stealing glances at her and Violet. Violet was still hanging off of the curvier girl, making kissy noises in her ear and rubbing over her chest. “You sure you don’t wanna play?” she cooed. Trixie was having difficulty saying no, with Violet’s hands traveling everywhere except where she wanted them to go, and her voice so breathy against her ear. 

 

But she could see Katya still glancing at them, and her eyes were almost wild. Suddenly, she turned to Adore, and pulled the smaller girl into her lap, who squealed in surprise, then laughed. “What are you doing, Kat?!”

 

“Wanna french me?”

 

Adore laughed again and threw her head back before wrapping her arms around Katya’s neck. “Wait, are you serious? Oh my God!” Katya nodded and, without much more hesitation, Adore pressed her lips roughly against Katya’s red ones. Trixie gasped and immediately felt her lower stomach explode with heat that traveled to the top of her head and the tips of her toes. She had almost forgotten Violet was there. 

 

But Violet had stopped what she was doing, too. She was staring at Katya with her jaw slightly agape. All of them were practically transfixed on the blonde—even Adore found herself far more excited than she anticipated. Katya bit the other girl’s bottom lip and raised her eyebrows once they pulled away, and the others seemed to finally snap back into place. 

 

“You are an attention whore in every sense of the phrase, Katya,” Bob said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Katya simply wiped a finger around the outline of her mouth to try and fix her smeared lipstick and smiled. Trixie could have sworn she saw Katya wink at her. 

 

Violet huffed and stomped her feet a little. “That’s not fair!” she cried. 

 

Katya draped her leg over the side of the couch and looked at Violet, beckoning her over with the cards in her hand. “You want some, too? Don’t worry, I understand, it’s natural, baby, you don’t have to be ashamed! You—“

 

“Ugh, and they call _me_ a slut!”

 

“Girls, girls, you’re _both_ sluts, y’all don’t have to argue!” D.J called from the kitchen before walking out and taking a sip from his coffee. 

 

“And _you’re_ an asshole,” Violet stomped halfheartedly towards the couch and sat down on one of the armchairs, taking some of the cards from a very smug Katya. D.J took another sip of his coffee and sighed as he looked out the window. 

 

“I’m gonna go take down the clothesline we’ve got by the other cabins,” he muttered. “Or else the wind’s gonna blow it all away, and Ms. Bianca’ll kill me!”

 

“Ugh, have fun,” Adore said. She stood up and meandered towards the record player, beginning to flip through the records and humming. 

 

“Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out!” Alaska called with a laugh. D.J forced a laugh, rolled his eyes, and stepped out the door, raincoat and jacket in hand, blissfully unaware. 

 

Trixie sighed and got up from the table. Now even D.J was gone, the one person who might have kept her company while the rest played poker. She was slightly tempted to join, especially to be able to see Katya, but she wasn’t that kind of girl. At least, she told herself she wasn’t. 

 

Instead, Trixie went into the kitchen to fix herself some tea. The beer had left a bitter taste in her mouth, literally and figuratively, and she wanted to save her last bit of bubblegum for later. She whistled as she grabbed a mug (which was far uglier than her usual tea set back home) before beginning to boil the water. She dug around in the pantry and was somehow able to find sugar cubes, milk, and honey. Trixie’s tea and coffee could be considered a diabetic’s death wish. 

 

She wandered around the room as she waited for the water to boil and inspected her nails for a moment before grabbing the small pot of honey. She unscrewed the lid, looked around to make sure nobody was watching, and dipped her pinky finger into the sticky substance before popping it into her mouth and sucking gently. She was reminded of times when she was younger and would sneak honey back at home, and suddenly felt a little less homesick. 

 

Trixie dipped her ring finger inside next and paused instead of sticking it in her mouth, watching the sweetness drip down her finger with satisfaction before catching the drop with her tongue and trailing all the way up to the tip of her finger. 

 

“You little tease.” Trixie gasped and jumped, turning quickly on her heels and nearly dropping the pot of honey at the sudden voice. Katya stood in the doorway, leaned against the doorframe with her shirt discarded, revealing her red push-up bra. 

 

“K-Katya! You scared me!” Trixie pushed her hair over her shoulder and nervously fumbled with her shirt, Katya’s eyes once again boring into her. 

 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you,” Katya murmured as she stepped towards the other blonde. “You really didn’t know I was there?” Trixie shook her head innocently. 

 

Katya smiled and flashed her blindingly white teeth. “So you just act like that on your own, huh? Licking up honey on your fingers and sucking on them, looking so pretty without even trying?” she purred. “Mmm. That’s so sexy.” 

 

Trixie’s stomach dropped and did a somersault. She felt like the wind had practically been knocked out of her. “I... you think so?” she breathed. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Katya slowly leaned closer to Trixie and placed her hands on the other girl’s pudgy hips. “Don’t you know that it’s rude to stick your fingers in people’s food?” She kneaded her hands on the other girl’s hips and Trixie could feel a bit of moisture spread between her legs. 

 

Trixie wasn’t able to reply before Katya gently took the jar of honey from her hands and dipped her own finger inside of it. She held it up to Trixie’s plush lips, who opened obediently and gazed through her lashes as Katya pushed her finger inside of the other girl’s mouth. Trixie closed her mouth and suckled teasingly, running her tongue along Katya’s finger. She could see the dirty blonde shudder, just a little. 

 

Trixie pulled away with a soft “pop!” sound, her mouth still open and a small string of spit still connecting them. Katya gave her a dirty look before putting the finger that had just been inside Trixie’s mouth inside of her own. 

 

Trixie felt like she was going to start shaking with need soon, that if Katya didn’t touch her in some way, she was going to scream. She wanted to beg for Katya to use her. She had never wanted something like that before, to be so viscerally dominated—she would probably let Katya do whatever twisted things she wanted to her. 

 

All of these thoughts and more raced through Trixie’s mind in such a short time it made her head spin. But Katya was pulling away and winking at Trixie, who whimpered at the loss of contact. “I was just coming to get another beer,” Katya admitted as she dug through the fridge. “But, if you can keep a secret between us, you look so much better than anyone out there. And you’ve got all your clothes on.” 

 

Trixie pulled down her schoolgirl skirt again and blushed. Katya smiled devilishly and paused in front of the other girl on her way out. 

 

“Come see me tonight, yeah?” She pressed a kiss to Trixie’s neck, then her jaw, and then her lips, lingering for a moment and swiping her tongue over them. The kettle whistled. 

 

Trixie nodded stupidly and Katya eventually pulled away. “Sweet like honey.” Then, as soon as she had arrived, she was gone, leaving Trixie in the kitchen alone, confused, and sexually frustrated. She reluctantly continued to make her tea, and when she put the spoonful of honey inside her cup, she couldn’t help but clench her thighs. 

 

Trixie sipped her tea in the doorway and watched as the others played strip poker. Katya, unfortunately, was very good at the game, and she managed to get almost everyone but her down to their underwear. Trixie could see her eyeing Violet once again and sighed. Was nothing sacred?

 

As Trixie drank down the last bit of her sugary tea, she was able to see Violet and Adore flirting with one another. 

 

“Well, I’m out,” Violet said, slapping down her cards and leaning back against the couch, her perky breasts facing the ceiling. “I think I’m gonna go upstairs.”

 

“Oh?” Adore asked softly. She licked her lips not-so-subtly. “You think I might be able to join you? Y’know, just to hang out.”

 

Trixie could see Violet was stifling a smile. “Sure,” she answered coolly, but the excitement in her voice was still there beneath the surface. She stood, taking Adore by the hand, and pulling her upstairs. Trixie was relieved—if Violet had taken Katya upstairs, she might have just lost her mind from the jealousy. She pondered inviting Katya to her cabin as well, but decided against it. She didn’t know how to ask, or if the time was right. 

 

                             _____

 

D.J strode across the grassy clearing, his coat wrapped tightly around him, and the wind flipping his hair slightly. He could see the clotheslines in the distance, connected between his cabin and another’s. The sheets flowed ominously back and forth, whipping violently against each other, making cracks that sounded almost like thunder. D.J wrapped his coat around himself even tighter.

 

The generator buzzed lowly nearby, a constant threat, a gentle but firm reminder of his responsibilities that Bianca had left him. He could see the sky darkening with every step he took towards the clothesline, and suddenly felt the chill bite deeper into his bones. 

 

“Lordy,” he whispered. Part of him wanted to just forget the whole thing and go back to the cabin, but the nagging thought in his mind was overcome by his commitment. 

 

He finally arrived at the clothesline and began to unclip the laundry, which whipped and hit him in every which way, occasionally blinding him and causing a slight panic until he managed to rip the sheet away from his face. 

 

Suddenly, he could hear a shuffling. He paused in the middle of taking off a sheet and stared off towards the forest. Was it the wind? No, no, they were most definitely footsteps. A cold chill ran through D.J’s body. He felt rooted to the spot. 

 

“Trixie?” he managed. He started to laugh weakly. “Trixie, girlie, is that you? Don’t sneak up on me!” 

 

No response. 

 

D.J swallowed and continued into the giant swarm of fabric. His ears were flooded by the sounds of only the wind and the sheets, cracking and flapping around him, all he could see. They were the wings of death. 

 

“Trixie!” he called. His voice broke now, and he was shuddering. “A-Alaska? Katya? Who’s there?”

 

Suddenly, a silouhette appeared behind the sheet directly in front of D.J. The figure was tall, looming, silent behind the flimsy white wall. D.J, in contrast to everything his body was telling him, burst into a hysterical fit of laughter. Panic was flooding his senses and he felt suddenly like he would vomit, but he laughed. 

 

“Bob! Bob, that’s you, right? I... Come on! Come _on._ Come out, for God’s sake, please come—“

 

He wasn’t able to finish before letting out a horrified scream as a machete came slashing through the white sheet, revealing the lumbering figure that was Jason. His rotted fist clenched around his weapon, he stood like a brick wall. There was no fear, no emotion, no hesitance with his stance. The man was a walking corpse, oh Jesus, he was dead and rotting and smelled like the swampy lake and he was going to kill him. D.J could see his beady, swollen eyes encapsulated in shadow behind the filthy hockey mask, the only bit of him that was alive. The face of death. 

 

It was the last thing D.J registered before the rusty machete slashed across his chest. D.J’s howls mingled with the screaming wind until Jason plunged the machete through his stomach, silencing him forever.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST BLOOD! Sorry, Shangie, it had to be someone. But who knows... she seems to have a hard time staying away on drag race... ;)
> 
> also, I forgot to mention this, but try not to be disappointed if ur some die hard Friday the 13th fan and I don't do something perfectly. Im taking inspiration from the movies, the video game, and my own imagination! So things might be different. Also, I have to make it work in fanfic form, lol. but enjoy!


	3. Easter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERES THE GOOD STUFF... I really love this chapter and I absolutely cannot wait to get the next one out! trigger warnings for violence and alcohol, kids. and btw thanks for the comments and kudos, they're very much appreciated!

Trixie sat on the rocking chair in the front porch, watching dazedly as the sky grew dark and the clouds glowed bright orange. The air was pleasantly warm and cocooned around her like a blanket, one she could fall asleep in. Mosquitos buzzed incessantly in her ear, but did not bite her. 

 

The blonde hardly registered when Alaska came outside and leaned against the railing of the porch. She swiped her hair over her shoulder and sighed.

 

“Alaska?”

 

Alaska smiled weakly and looked over at Trixie. “Hi. Did I interrupt something?” Trixie adjusted her glasses and closed the book she had open on her lap— _The Handmaid’s Tale_.

 

“No, no, not at all,” Trixie assured. Alaska had her sunglasses on again, and she held an almost empty beer bottle loosely in one hand. “Are… you alright?”

 

Alaska forced a choked laugh and downed some of her beer. She smiled bitterly at the bottle in her hand. “Mhm.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

Trixie crossed and uncrossed her legs while staring at her lap. She could hear Alaska chugging the last of the alcohol and could practically see the grimace on her face. 

 

“I just can’t fucking believe that bitch,” Alaska continued finally.

 

“Who?”

 

“My ex,” Alaska said placidly. Trixie couldn’t see her eyes but could still visualize the far-off look in them. “She… damnit! I thought I was over her, you know? I thought it was fucking over with. I mean, I even agreed to break up. I didn’t get dumped. So why…” The teen paused, swayed, then regained her composure. “Why do I miss her?”

 

Trixie stood up and took a small step towards Alaska, but she was careful to keep some distance. “Well, it’s natural to miss those people,” she said. “You miss the better times, or—or the idea of them. You just need time, distance.”

 

“That’s why I came here!” Alaska brayed. She turned on Trixie and nearly stumbled turning around. “I came as far as I could get! And for what? Now I’m jush—just more alone with my ffff-ucking thoughts!” She was practically foaming at the mouth, spittle dripping down her lips, her speech slurring slightly. Trixie took a small step back, but as soon as Alaska had raised her voice, she calmed down again, looking off towards the hills.

 

“It’s just so unfair.” She sighed, wiped her mouth, and was quiet. Trixie took a deep breath and gnawed at the edge of her fingernail. 

 

Alaska then walked down towards the fire pit and sat herself on one of the surrounding logs. She threw her bottle into the stone pit and Trixie flinched when it shattered. 

 

“So,” Alaska said, suddenly sounding very sober. “You know how to start a fire?”

 

——

 

“ _Love is a burnin’ thing_

_And it makes a fiery ring_

_Bound by wild desire_

_I fell into a ring of fire.”_

 

Trixie tapped her foot to the beat of the song and strummed expertly along the guitar. Her fingers moved with minds of their own up and down the neck, and her well-calloused fingertips only felt the dull buzz of the strings when she plucked them. The steady _chug-chigga-chug-chigga-chug_ strumming pattern lulled her into a trance. She continued to croon the lyrics softly,

 

_“I fell into a burning ring of fire,_

_I went down, down, down and the flames went higher.”_

 

 _“And it burns, burns, burns!”_ Adore sang. She was dancing around the now roaring fire, swinging her hips, shaking her hands and making her bracelets rattle. “ _The ring of fire, the ring of fire.... mmm, mmm, mmm.”_

 

Trixie finished off with a slap her guitar, and the others cheered. “Yee-fuckin-ha, country girl!” Violet shouted. Trixie smiled around at the others and giggled. 

 

She stuck her hands on her hips and drawled with a pitchy southern accent, “Aw, shucks, lil’ ol me? Ain’t you city folk ever heard ‘a Johnny Cash?”

 

“We live in the _real_ world,” Bob said. “Ain’t nobody listens to Johnny Cash anymore unless they’re in an old folk’s home, and those people probably still wanna lynch me.” 

 

Katya gasped and smacked Bob on the shoulder. “Oh my _God!_ You can’t say that about their sweet old grannies, they’ve changed! I’m sure they’d let a nice young man like you stuff those saggy, old, veiny—“

 

Violet made a gagging noise and pretended to vomit violently onto the floor. 

 

Alaska glanced down at the other girl. “Violet, you know that’s not gonna make your waist any smaller.” 

 

Everybody burst into a fit of laughter, including Violet, who rolled over onto her back and kicked her legs. _Jesus,_ Trixie thought. _Beer really makes everyone your fuckin’ friend._

 

“Do you know anything by _The Who?_ ” Adore asked with a grin. A hickey was visible below her jaw. 

 

“She’s from Wisconsin, dahling, that kind of music gets you excommunicated,” Katya said as she sidled up next to the black haired girl. 

 

Adore snickered and Trixie felt her stomach pitch. 

 

“You’re from Russia, how would you know?”

 

Katya winked and took out a cigarette from her pack of Winstons. “Does that mean I have no cultural awareness, my dear?” she asked with the cigarette clamped between her white teeth. She lit it and gestured the box towards the others. 

 

Alaska took one and lit up happily, and Adore groaned. “I only smoke grass, bitch, that shit is gonna fuck you up!”

 

“Oh my God, nobody cares!” Bob said as he tossed another piece of wood onto the fire, moving it into place with the sharp fire poker from inside. Trixie stood, guitar in hand, and looked towards her cabin. 

 

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna change,” she said as she strapped the guitar around her back. Katya grinned, almost knowingly, and blew some smoke in Trixie’s direction. 

 

“Ta Ta, my love!”

 

Trixie swung open the door to her cabin, which creaked painfully, and grabbed her suitcase. Biting her lip, she began to dig through the contents, shoving aside her skirts and jeans and blouses until she found what she was looking for. 

 

It was a pastel pink lingerie set, the only one she even owned. It was nothing particularly intense, a lacy bra with a small white bow between the cups and a high waisted pair of matching panties—with thigh high stockings to boot. Despite its simplicity, compared to other options, it made Trixie slightly flustered to even own it. 

 

After she had put it all on and examined herself as best she could in her small handheld mirror, she began to reach for her normal pyjamas when she was startled by a loud thump. 

 

It was actually multiple loud thumps, against a nearby cabin. She froze in place and listened carefully, and they continued yet again. 

 

Confused (and more than a little worried), Trixie threw on the thing closest to her—A short, hot pink coverup—and grabbed her flashlight after sliding on her mocassin slippers. 

 

She stepped into the cool night air and looked around, shining the light over the bushes and swallowing. The pounding had stopped, but Trixie now knew where it was coming from, and began to make the trek towards D.J’s cabin. 

 

She wondered placidly why D.J was repairing something, especially at this hour, and then wondered why D.J had been gone so long. Had something broken that he needed to fix urgently? The more she attempted to rationalize it, the more she didn’t believe it. She pushed her doubts away and continued on along the warm earth. 

 

The now gentle breeze whipped her light coverup as the blonde crossed the grass, back towards the clothesline. She heard Bob say something unintelligable in the distance and the rest of the teenagers laughing, but it felt as though they were in two different worlds. Trixie in the dark, alone, 

 

( _not alone, no, watched)_

 

and the others back in the real world, together, finding bliss and comfort in their numbers. The light. 

 

Trixie’s flashlight fell upon multiple sheets that had fallen, crumpled, to the ground. She furrowed her eyebrows and swallowed with difficulty. She almost called out for D.J, but something inside stopped her short. 

 

A flash of red jumped into Trixie’s vision. She whipped the flashlight back to the spot and approached the sheet with the red in question cautiously. She crouched, unfolding the piece of cloth as best she could, and her heart fell into her stomach. The red splatter and harsh tear in the fabric was unmistakable. She threw the sheet away from her in horror, stumbling as she stood back up, and took a shaky breath. 

 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

 

Trixie turned slowly towards the sound echoing in the distance. There was a shuffling she could hardly hear, which grew fainter and fainter as it began in the opposite direction. 

 

Towards the main cabin. 

 

Her lips quivered. 

 

Trixie stood rooted to the spot until the sound was long gone. She was miserably torn between returning to safety, and reassuring herself that her fears were incorrect. That she was simply being womanish and morbidly curious. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her, and her flashlight was trembling in her hand, but she continued on. He was fine, she was forced to remind herself that. 

 

The beam of light finally travelled across the decrepit wooden walls, filled with mold and worms and maggots

 

( _no, not mold, not maggots. You’re going crazy. Get it together.)_

 

Trixie heard her pulse thrumming in her throat. She was wholly convinced the wall would be smashed open by an axe at any moment, that the boogeyman would stick his gruesome face through, pridefully announcing, “Here’s Johnny!” before swiping the axe through Trixie’s neck. The blonde whimpered, squeezed her eyes shut, and rounded the corner. 

 

Another empty wall. One corner, two, three. Her breathing only quickened. _Third time’s the charm,_ she thought with a dull sickness in her stomach. 

 

It was not the third wall, either. It was as bare as the others. Trixie suddenly laughed without amusement at how she must look, stalking the cabin in circles like a character from _Scooby Doo_. 

 

The unsteady beam finally travelled over the fourth wall. Trixie was comforted, for only a moment, at its seemingly bare exterior, until the light continued to travel and finally revealed D.J’s slaughtered body. His shirt was soaked crimson that also splattered across his face and jeans. His corpse had been nailed to the wall, giant tent stakes driven through his outstretched hands and crossed feet in a perverted crucifix. A final stake was driven through his head, forcing his empty eyes to look upon Trixie, dully reflecting the flashlight’s beam in an almost mocking parody of the light that used to be in the young man’s eyes. 

 

Trixie shoved her fist into her mouth, to stop her screaming or vomiting, she didn’t know. A choked sob was drawn from her throat, but she couldn’t look away. She wanted to shout for someone, _anyone,_ but the only thing she could think was the fact who did this still had to be somewhere nearby. She thought of the shuffling. 

 

“Oh, God,” she whispered, backing away slowly. She got a few yards away before turning on her heel and sprinting as fast as she could towards the campfire. 

 

_(Please don’t be there, please don’t be there, oh good Lord PLEASE DONT BE THERE)_

 

Trixie didn’t feel anything as she ran. Not fear, not her lungs burning in her throat, not the grief of seeing her friend’s grizzled corpse. It She _couldn’t_ feel anything. 

 

But a small wave of relief washed over her as she approached the campfire and saw everyone still singing, still laughing, still blissfully unaware. She finally began to scream, waving her arms frantically and nearly falling to her knees. 

 

“JASON!!” she heard herself squawking. She didn’t know why. “JASON, JASON!”

 

“What the fuck?” Adore said. The whole group had gone silent, watching Trixie flounder with morbid amusement. 

 

“Jason!” Trixie repeated. She was shaking violently, her flashlight wobbling. “He—He fucking g-got D.J! He killed him! Oh God, he’s dead, Jesus, he’s _dead!_ We have to get the fuck out of here!”

 

She stopped, and the only noise was the fire crackling and her own shuddering, laborious breath. Then Adore laughed, and Katya, and Alaska, and Violet, and Bob. They all cackled at her as if she was a deranged clown. A caged animal. 

 

“Do you think we were born yesterday?!” Bob said between his fits of laughter. “Yeah, of course, kiddie Jason is coming back to get us! Poor wittle baby.”

 

Trixie wanted to slap them. How were they laughing? “You motherfuckers, I’m serious!! D.J is fucking DEAD. I—I _saw it._ ”

 

“O-kayy,” Violet mumbled. She sipped her beer, and suddenly Trixie was filled with a boiling rage. She stalked towards Violet and wrestled the bottle from her hand before smashing it against the boulder next to her. Glass tinkled against the ground, and Violet gasped. 

 

“He’s nailed to a fucking wall, you goddamned bitch,” she shouted hoarsely. “ _He’s got his fucking guts spilling out and you think I’m kidding_?!”

 

Violet looked at Trixie in horrified disgust. “Get away from me, you fucking psycho!” She shoved Trixie away, who stumbled backwards and waved the broken bottle in her hand as she regained her balance. She felt her vision getting fuzzy, as if she’d black out any moment, and then arms wrapping around her. 

 

“Okay, c’mon,” Katya was murmuring as she gently took the bottle from Trixie’s hand. “Let’s get you inside. You need to calm down.”

 

“No!” Trixie ripped herself away from Katya and backed away from all of them. “I’m not going anywhere except _out of here._ We need to fucking get out before we ALL DIE. Do you hear me?! We’re gonna—We—“ she faltered, trying to catch her breath and failing miserably. Her heart was thudding against her chest. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

 

 _“Jesus,”_ Bob whispered. He looked warily at the others, who seemed suddenly very frightened as well. 

 

All except Adore, who laughed again and stood up. “You guys are such pussies!” she said incredulously. She gestured around her and shook her head. “I mean, like, do you _really_ believe this bitch? I’m sure D.J’s in on it, the little shit. They’re just in it for some attention and to get a scare out of us—“ she looked around with a smirk at the other counselors, “—and apparently it’s working.”

 

Trixie was still shuddering with anger and fear as Adore spoke. “I mean, really! Does anyone think Jason is _actually_ back?“ the young girl looked smugly upon the others, who shifted their eyes. 

 

When they finally looked up and saw the figure behind Adore it was too late. 

 

The fire poker was plunged through her throat from behind. The group shrieked as blood spewed from Adore’s jugular, dripping down her front and out of her mouth. She clawed at the iron rod hopelessly, her eyes wide and afraid, gurgling on her own demise and watching as the counselors tripped over one another to run away. Her eyelashes eventually fluttered, and her limp body gave under its own weight, falling forwards; straight into the flames of the fire pit. 

 

Trixie turned back and could see the sparks fly as Adore’s body hit the fire logs, screaming and crying hysterically with the others, who were practically ripping at her night gown to try and get her to flee. She saw Jason in his full glory, towering over the pit like a walking corpse himself. He ripped the poker from Adore’s lifeless body with ease and looked up slowly to meet eyes with Trixie.

 

The iron poker was red hot. 

 

Trixie finally let herself be dragged away. Their screams all mingled together as they ran blindly into the darkness, anywhere that wasn’t that fire pit. Trixie didn’t know who was who or where any of them were. She still had her flashlight, but it only illuminated a small strip of light in front of her. 

 

She didn’t stop running. No matter how horribly her chest hurt and begged for a break, she continued. She was waiting for leathery hands to clasp around her throat and pull her onto his blade at any moment, killing her—yes, killing her—and then stringing her body up like a halloween decoration. 

 

But they didn’t. By the time she staggered towards another one of the main cabins,  the one almost across camp, Jason was nowhere to be seen. She threw herself inside and her breath seemed to sob back into her. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Bob cried. “Who’s here, who’s here?! Did we get split up?! _Shit!”_

 

Violet flipped on the lights hurriedly, and Bob nearly smacked her as he slammed them back off again. “Are you crazy?! Do you _want_ him to find us?!” Violet slid down the wall, face in her hands, and moaned in agony. 

 

“Oh, God, fucking _shit,_ ” Bob ran his hand over his scalp and began to pace back and forth. “Where’s Alaska and Katya?”

 

“I... I don’t know!” Trixie said. “I didn’t see them! Oh, God, you don’t think...?”

 

Violet wailed and clawed at her face. Her fingernails left harsh red scrapes against her pale skin. “He k-kih-illed them!” she babbled. “I’m sure of it! He must have got them, and we’ve left them for dead! We left Adore, oh Jesus, oh God, OH JESUS, OH GOD—“ 

 

“SHUT HER UP!” Bob bellowed as he began to throw his body weight against one of the nearby sofas, pushing it against the door and reaching to close the curtains of the windows. Trixie dove to the floor and cupped Violet’s face in her hands. 

 

“Violet, listen to me,” she crooned. Trixie couldn’t believe the calmness of her own voice. Violet continued to sob and shake her head, kicking her legs, her eyes that of a wild animal. “Hush, you have to be _quiet,_ okay? Please. I’m sure Alaska and Katya made it to another cabin, they’re probably looking for us right now, alright? Shh, shh, shh. We’re gonna get out of here, I swear.”

 

Violet finally started to calm down. She sniffled and wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve, gazing up at Trixie like a hopeful child. “Do you promise?”

 

_(Oh yes you’ll get out but not alive)_

 

“Yes.” The lack of hesitance in her own lie frightened Trixie.  

 

Violet threw her arms around Trixie and sobbed into her neck. She cradled the smaller girl in her arms, nuzzling her nose against her jaw and humming something gently in her ear. 

 

She wanted to stay that way, holding Violet, finding comfort in the other girl’s embrace. But she knew their time was limited. Their lives were on the line. There was no stopping here. 

 

Trixie kissed Violet’s cheek and stroked her hair before untangling herself from their embrace and standing up. “C’mon, we have to help Bob,” she said. “We can get some weapons together, and then try to find the phones and call for help, and we’ll wait here until it comes. Okay?” Violet nodded and stood as well, already visibly embarrassed by her own outburst. 

 

“Thank God,” Bob said as he continued shoving chairs against the door. He was visibly shaking. “That sounds like a great fucking plan. You guys search the house, okay? And close and lock any windows or doors you see. I’m gonna keep up here.”

 

Trixie nodded, took Violet by the arm, and ventured into the darkness of the cabin. 


	4. Called

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> da da da da! new chapter! I'm trying to put in some comedy aspects to balance out the gruesomeness and dark stuff lmao so let me know how thats working... also we're approaching the end folks! I think theres only a couple chapters left. Hopefully you enjoy this one!

Trixie and Violet split up in the kitchen to search for anything worth using. The blonde dug haphazardly through cupboards and drawers, only to find them mostly empty or filled with garbage. Something glimmering caught her eye on the counter, though—a hefty kitchen knife, sitting there, inviting her to use it. She practically stumbled over herself to grab it. She dragged it over the countertop to test its sharpness, gazing at the thin scrape against the surface, and sighed happily. The weight of the weapon in her hand was comforting. 

 

“I thought it was all a joke,” Violet was murmuring as she opened another cabinet. She turned to Trixie and sniffed. “I didn’t believe you, I... Trix, I’m so sorry—“

 

“It’s fine,” Trixie replied with an empty laugh. “I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

 

They pooled their findings in the end, consisting of the knife, a broken pipe, a box of matches, playing darts, and car keys. Trixie felt guilty taking the knife and not giving it to Violet, who might not be able to use the broken pipe as efficiently, but she refused to give up the one thing that grounded her to the situation.  

 

“Bob! Bob, how’s it going?” 

 

“Just fantastic,” Bob called. He grabbed a hammer he found in a toolbox, as well as some nails, and started to use the firewood he had chopped with a hatchet to nail the windows shut. 

 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

 

Trixie felt her throat close to the size of a pinhole and she gripped the countertop until her knuckles turned white. All she could see was D.J’s lifeless body nailed to the wall of the cabin, those dead eyes looking down at her. The image of D.J morphed in her head, and suddenly it was Alaska, blood pouring from her mouth, right outside their cabin at this very moment as Jason drove her corpse into the wall. And then it turned into Katya. And then into herself. 

 

“Trixie. Trixie!!” The young blonde suddenly found something cool pressing against her. It was the tiled floor. She heard screaming. 

 

_(It’s one of the girls. He got her and she’s not dead yet, and he’s still nailing her to that damn wall)_

 

“ _Stop it!_ ” There was a hot stinging pain in Trixie’s cheek and she gasped. The screaming stopped. Violet was kneeling over her, the blood completely flushed from her face, and her hand was shaking. Bob came rushing into the kitchen and flipped on the lights against his better judgement. 

 

“What’s going on, what happened?! Trixie!” 

 

Trixie touched her fingers to own cheek where she had been slapped and they came away wet—she was crying. 

 

“Bob? Violet?” she said dazedly. She could still feel the knife in her hand. “We gotta... we gotta go... Jason, he’s putting ‘em on the wall... the wall.”

 

“Jesus, she’s gone crazy!” Violet cried. 

 

“No, she’s just in shock,” Bob said. He leapt up and ran water into his cupped hands from the sink, then splashed it onto Trixie’s face. 

 

Trixie sputtered and wiped furiously at her eyes. She felt the world coming back to her, bit by bit, and took a deep, shuddering breath. There hadn’t been anyone screaming but her, she realized. 

 

“I was boarding up windows,” Bob explained gently. “That’s what you heard. Nobody... they’re not getting nailed to the wall. We’re safe, alright?”

 

“No, we’re not,” Trixie said, standing up and wiping her hand on her coverup. “I’ll believe anything else but that, Bob!” With that, she stormed away, up the stairs, leaving Violet and Bob stunned. 

 

Trixie flipped on the lights there as well. She refused to be in the dark, especially alone, and went about shutting all the windows she could. Was she really going crazy? It was quite possible. She saw two of her friends die in less than fifteen minutes. They were still there, those corpses. Adore’s might be nothing but ash in a few hours. 

 

( _Cost efficient cremation, no?)_

 

_(Stop it.)_

 

Trixie wandered into one of the bedrooms and started to search its drawers. Nothing but extra sheets and pillowcases. She gazed around at the room, and found it rather pretty, then laughed. She was being pursued by a ruthless killer, and she was still thinking of room decor. But what else could she do? Nothing had prepared her for this. No amount of cold winters or shooting lessons in Wisconsin came close to this. It felt like every other part of her existence had been a walk in the park, a blissful life filled with virtue leading up to this waking nightmare. Was it to punish her? All of them? What had they done?

 

She remembered Ms. Voorhees. 

 

“Why?” she whispered, trailing her hands over the bed. “Why’d you have to let him drown?” 

 

“Trixie!” Bob called from downstairs. “Trixie, get down here, you need to see this!”

 

Trixie padded down the stairs, one hand gently holding the railing and the other holding the knife in front of her defensively. Violet was holding the telephone in her hand, furiously slamming the buttons, but there was no sound. 

 

“He cut out the phones,” Bob whispered gravely. “He cut out the motherfucking phones.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.” The young man rubbed his face, suddenly looking very sickly. He seemed too old for his age. “We’ve got no way to contact anybody. Not the police. Not Bianca. No one.”

 

Violet whimpered and rested her forehead against the wall as tears pricked at her eyes. “Jesus fuck, what are we gonna _do??”_

 

“We have to be able to fix it, right?” Trixie asked desperately. “There’s gotta be a phone box. He must have just disconnected it. And... and if we can’t do that, we found car keys. Maybe we can get out that way.”

 

Bob gazed towards the door, which was still blocked. Violet moaned. “Oh, please,” she begged. Bob began to slowly pull the chairs and blockades from the exit. 

 

“Please, Bob, _please!_ No! We’ll die if we go out there!” She was pulling at his clothes, grabbing fistfuls of cloth and practically tearing at them as she slid to her knees. “Stop it, oh, stop it! Fucking _stop it!!”_

 

Bob ignored Violet’s pleas. Now only the sofa was blocking the door. She clawed at his shoulder, digging into his skin, and he hissed before shoving Violet away. Hard. She stumbled backwards, and Trixie had to catch her by the arms, nearly falling back as well. “You motherfucker, don’t push me!” Violet spat. “You’re trying to kill us! You’re crazy! You’re out of your fucking MIND!” 

 

“ _I’m_ out of my mind?!” Bob finally responded, turning on Violet. The girl seemed to shrink into Trixie. “I’m not the one screaming and trying to tear your god damned eyeballs out, am I? I’m trying to keep us ALIVE. What’s the use of staying here if we haven’t got the phones? We’re not just going to sit here and wait to die.” He grimaced and took a shuddering breath. The hatchet felt impossibly heavy in his hand. 

 

“I’d rather go out there and put up a fight.”

 

Violet continued to shake her head. “Bob, I can’t—“

 

“Then you stay here.” He pushed the hammer he had been using into Violet’s hands. Violet swallowed thickly and darted her eyes from the hammer to Bob. 

 

“B-But—“

 

“Stay or go, those are your options,” Bob interrupted coldly. “Look, you can barricade the door again and wait by the phone. If we manage to turn it back on, you’ll hear the dial tone, and you can call the cops. Then you wait.”

 

“And what if you don’t?” Violet whispered. Bob looked gravely at the other girl. 

 

“Then you take those car keys and the hammer and you _run._ ”

 

Trixie could hear Violet make a small, choked sound and she was trembling in her arms. Trixie hugged her closer. “C’mon, Vi, you can do this,” she said. “Then we’ll get out even sooner! After we turn on the box we’ll come right back here and get you.” She was actually beginning to believe the words that came out of her mouth. 

 

“So what is it?” Bob asked. “We’re running out of time.”

 

Violet looked between them, sighed, and stood up. The fear in her eyes had been replaced with something else—determination. Trixie was heartbroken. “Good.” Bob finally pushed the sofa away, with some effort, and paused as he grabbed the door handle. He hesitated, adjusted his grip on the hatchet, took a deep breath, and let the door swing open. There was nothing. He let his breath out and relaxed, only slightly, then turned to Violet and Trixie. “Come on. We’ll be back soon, and if not... you know what to do.”

 

Trixie embraced Violet and patted her on the back before turning and walking out into the cool night. She handed the flashlight to Bob, allowing him to lead the way as she looked around them. As soon as the door creaked closed, she could hear the scrape of the furniture being moved to make a blockade, and she suddenly realized that if they were being chased by Jason, they wouldn’t be able to get back in quick enough. She sighed deeply. 

 

The pair walked in silence for a good while. Every scrape or crack made their hearts leap into their throats, stop dead in their tracks, swing the light back and forth. Walk, crack, stop, look, repeat. It was a maddening cycle. The moon shone upon them and bathed them in its sickly glow, their faces looking sallow and haunted. Trixie could feel the dread swallowing her, reaching its hand around her heart and guts and squeezing. A scream was always caught in her throat, threatening to escape and send her into madness. At this rate, she would die of fear before Jason even got her. 

 

“You got any idea where this phone box is?” Bob finally asked. They had come upon a row of cabins. 

 

“It should be attached to one of the cabins. I didn’t see one when I...” she swallowed. “When I found D.J.”

 

“Okay. So that’s crossed off,” Bob said coolly, as if the cabin was simply a plan made on a summer evening that could no longer work out

 

_(Was it not a plan?)_

 

instead of the resting place of a corpse. “And there wasn’t one on the cabin we were just in, or the cabin we went into first.” Trixie recalled arriving from the hot car, sweaty, watching them all play strip poker. How long had it been? A week? A few days? _Had it only been a few hours?_

 

“I guess we should start checking these,” Trixie said. Her voice begged for anything else but that, yet she knew it was their only choice. Bob nodded and clasped his large hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Trixie lowered her head and tapped the blunt side of the knife to her temple in a sort of prayer. _God, Yahweh, Buddha, Allah, Universe, The Devil, anyone, please let us live._

 

_(There is no God in this place.)_

 

_(Indeed there is, Barbara, and his name is Jason.)_

 

The pair stalked towards the first cabin. The lights were all on, but the inside seemed abandoned. A radio was blaring a peppy pop song Trixie couldn’t quite name in the distance. Mocking her. Trixie suddenly had the most frightening urge to stab the radio, stab the woman singing and all her backup singers until the song crackled and sputtered to a halt. 

 

Bob managed to pull her from her trance, quite literally, by taking her hand and dragging her around the perimeter of the cabin. Trixie feared the worst, that they would come upon another slain teenager, or, worse yet, Jason himself. But they didn’t. The only bad news was that there was no phone box in sight. 

 

They continued like that for what felt like hours, walking in circles, checking and double checking anywhere they could for a phone box. But they were beginning to lose hope. Trixie suddenly felt very afraid, not of Jason, but of Bob. What if Bob became angry with her, thought she was lying? She wondered if they would all kill eachother in a fit of psychosis brought on by this terror and save Jason a lot of trouble. 

 

Trixie wandered behind Bob in a bit of a trance, lost in these thoughts, occasionally feeling unwelcome thoughts dart behind her eyes and having to shake her head to clear them. That is why she didn’t notice the figure behind her, stepping when she stepped, remaining quiet and nimble. A hand suddenly clapped against her mouth, and Trixie let out a muffled scream; she had forgotten about the blade in her hand. She was ready to accept her fate when a familiar voice whispered to her. “Trixie, shh! It’s Katya!”

 

Bob was wheeling around and shone the flashlight directly into the girls’ faces, blinding them. Katya took a step backwards and held up her hands defensively, squinting against the light. Bob sighed, relaxed, and moved the beam from their eyes. Trixie turned to gaze at Katya, who appeared weathered, but otherwise unharmed. She managed a smile and whispered, “Hi, baby. You miss me?” Trixie, overwhelmed with relief and an unexpected surge of passion, threw her arms around Katya’s neck and buried her face in her soft skin. 

 

“Oh, Katya, thank God!” she breathed. Katya stroked the other blonde’s cheek and kissed her forehead. They both seemed to forget exactly what was happening to them, only knowing eachother’s warm embrace and nothing else. 

 

“Guys, come on, this isn’t a family reuinion,” Bob said uneasily, shifting the flashlight from one hand to the other. “We’re trying to get out of here!”

 

Katya pulled away from Trixie and gazed at the two, puzzled. “Get out? How?”

 

“Well, we’re going to call for help,” Trixie explained. “He took out the phone lines, but I bet there’s a phone box we can fix and get back up!” She beamed at Katya like an excited child awaiting praise for their cleverness, and Katya hugged her close again, sighing shakily. 

 

“You’re a fucking God-send, Tracy,” she murmured. Trixie smiled at the nickname, but a cloud of worry passed over her face. 

 

“Where’s Alaska?”

 

“She’s back at the cabin, holding down the fort. I came out to look for you guys, see if I could get us all together. We’ll be much stronger in numbers.” She furrowed her brows. “Where’s Violet?”

 

“She wanted to stay, so we let her,” Bob explained. “She’s at our cabin, waiting by the phone for when we turn it back on so she can call the cops ASAP.”

 

Katya patted Bob on the shoulder and grinned up at the taller man. “Good show, right good show,” she said in an impression of what seemed to be a posh British butler. Perhaps this was how she coped. “Now, I don’t mean to be ‘that guy,’ but have you got any idea where this aforementioned phone box may be?” Trixie and Bob both shook their heads solemnly. 

 

Katya sighed and crossed her arms, looking almost heartbroken. “Well...” she began softly. “It’s a good thing I do! I saw this box with a blinking red light on the cabin me and ‘Lasky ran into. Cabin B. It’s right over there—“ she pointed to one of the buildings that was, luckily, close by, “come on, before Jason finds us.” 

 

All was well when they arrived at the cabin. Alaska held a meat cleaver in her hand as she opened the door, but she still managed a small smile at the sight of them all. She was run ragged, Trixie could see, shuddering with streaks of mascara running down her face. Trixie clasped one of her shaking hands and Alaska leaned into her slightly. 

 

“Did you find anything?” Katya asked. Alaska shook her head. 

 

“Nothing good yet,” she mumbled. “There’s the attic, but I didn’t want to go up there by myself.” She gazed down at her feet, and Katya rubbed her arm soothingly. Bob looked around and sighed when there was no phone in sight. He wondered what Violet was doing, if she was okay. 

 

Katya was murmuring something to Alaska, who grinned genuinely and looked at Bob. “You guys are gonna fix the phone box?” she asked. “That’s it. We’re saved!” Bob chuckled softly, but his stomach rolled and flipped. This was very possibly their only chance. If they somehow couldn’t fix the phone box, they might just be doomed for good. Bianca would come back and find them slaughtered across the camp. Their parents would have to bury them. He shivered. 

 

“How do we go about this?” Katya asked. “The box is over in the back. Maybe... Bob, you could repair it while Alaska watches your back? And me and Trixie will be waiting by the door and watching the house.”

 

Bob nodded, patting his pockets where he had brought a few tools from the toolbox. “I think I can do that,” he said. They all looked at Alaska, still with her meat cleaver, and she sighed. 

 

“I... I’ll try, if it means we get out of here.” She wiped her face with a shaky hand. 

 

“It does, ‘Lasky, promise.” Katya rubbed Alaska’s shoulder and watched her and Bob walk back into the darkness, the uncertainty of their own lives. Then she turned to Trixie. 

 

Even here, in this nightmare, she looked beautiful. She was clutching her knife with one hand and toying with her hair with the other, worrying her teeth on her bottom lip, her eyebrows furrowed in a cute pout that more resembled her simply trying to calculate the answer to a math problem than her debating her own death. She suddenly felt Katya’s arms wrap around her waist from behind in a hug, swaying back and forth gently.

 

The Russian tugged gently at Trixie’s coverup. “What’s this?” she murmured. Trixie giggled in spite of herself. 

 

“O-Oh, I just put on what was closest. I was gonna put on my normal pajamas, but then—“ she swallowed, “—you know.”

 

“Mhm,” Katya hummed. She trailed her hand over Trixie’s side, over her lingerie that was barely covered by the sheer nightgown. “But you put on the lingerie before that, no?”

 

Trixie’s face flushed. She simply nodded against Katya, who gently turned so she could get a good look at Trixie. She smiled and pressed a kiss to Trixie’s jaw, “Cute.”

 

Trixie’s heart soared, and she was about to pull Katya close again with the hand that held the knife before her heart dropped once more. The reality of the situation once again washed over her, and she groaned. “Oh, God, this sucks,” she found herself whining. “I mean... if all this hadn’t happened, we could all be having so much fun, and Adore and D.J—“

 

Katya hushed the taller girl, pressing her thumb to her lips. “I know, I know,” she murmured, her eyes suddenly very raw and solemn. “But we can’t—we can’t worry about that now.” She glanced down at Trixie’s figure again, then back up at her face, chewing her bottom lip. 

 

“Trixie, I like you, I really do. I like you a lot. I know I barely know you and, hell, we might be dead soon, but that’s exactly it! We—There might not be much time left, you know? I just—shit, this sounds bad—but I mean, we could just... just say ‘fuck it’, and...” Katya’s long, winded rant faltered, and Trixie looked down in confusion at the other blonde. Before she could attempt to process anything she had said, Katya practically leapt upon her, slamming their lips together in a hungry kiss. Trixie was pushed against the wall, her back flush against the wood, and she found herself bucking her hips involuntarily against Katya. Once the shock wore slightly, she opened her mouth, accepting Katya’s lips and tongue and making small noises as the other woman bit her bottom lip and pressed their tongues together. Katya’s hands were roaming frantically over Trixie’s sides and hips, squeezing and groping at every inch of her. 

 

It was only when Katya began to untie the strings of the blonde’s coverup did Trixie gain enough self-awareness to realize what they were doing. She held her hands out in front of her and pushed Katya away softly. 

 

“Kat,” she whispered. Katya was still kissing her and whimpering. “Kat, please. We... we can’t. Not now.”

 

Katya pulled back, her hands slowly sliding away from Trixie and returning limply to their sides. They were both breathing heavily, and Katya wiped her mouth nonchalantly with the back of her hand. It was all over as soon as it started. 

 

“Damn, I was hoping they’d find our bodies locked in rigor mortis together,” she joked, but there was a twinge of disappointment in her voice. Trixie mentally kicked herself for stopping.

 

She cupped Katya’s face in her hand lovingly and sighed, smiling, before kissing her once more. “I’m sorry, I... I really want to, too. Very badly. But this isn’t the right time, I’m just... what if something happens to them out there? Or us?”

 

Katya laughed and shook her head, resting her head on Trixie’s shoulder. “Alas, if only you weren’t so smart, my dear,” she cooed. 

 

Trixie snorted and rested her chin on top of Katya’s hair. “As if.”

 

—— 

 

Violet shouldn’t have stayed behind. 

 

She realized this as she sat upstairs, her knees drawn up to her chest, the hammer sitting dutifully by her side. She chewed at one of her long nails and began to rock back and forth. Why did she stay? There was no way she would be able to hold this place down. But then again, they needed her to. She had the phone off the hook downstairs, and was straining to hear when the dial tone would begin to buzz. The clock ticked rhythmically in waiting. 

 

_Come on Bob, come on Trixie, hurry up._

 

Violet gasped when she heard a soft knocking downstairs. She breathed in carefully and chuckled at herself, slowly peeling herself from the floor and beginning down the steps. She ran her hand through her hair. 

 

“What happened?” she asked, steps creaking slightly. “Did you guys not find it? I don’t hear the—“ a blood curdling shriek escaped her throat as the head of an axe came bursting through the door. She began to stumble backwards, wheeling her arms out and finally grabbing hold of the stairs’ railing. Through the cracks of the legs of wicker chairs and empty space of the barricade, she saw the unmistakable sillouhette of Jason, and her blood ran cold. She thought of Adore. 

 

“ _No!!”_ Violet sobbed. She bolted back up the stairs and ran to the end of the hallway as fast as her legs would carry her, slammed the door shut, and threw herself into the closet. She had to bite her forearm to stifle the sobs and screams that begged to come out. The hammer was still in her hand, thank God, but how would it stand a chance against his axe? She began to pray, her lips moving silently, for her survival. The sounds of splintered and broken wood continued downstairs until there was a loud grunt and a thud as the whole barricade came tumbling down. Violet flinched at the sheer strength Jason possesed. 

 

The man looked slowly around the room and saw no sign of the young girl. He pulled his axe from the wreckage and began slowly up the stairs, dragging the weapon behind him, taking his sweet time. His beady eyes peered through the small holes in his hockey mask as he walked down the hall and scanned every inch of the bedrooms. But Violet was nowhere in sight. 

 

_(Don’t let her hide, Jason. Don’t let her live. Kill her. Kill her!)_

 

Jason trudged along the narrow hallway until he came upon the final door, which was shut tight, yet not locked. He twisted the handle and opened it with ease. The room was just as empty, only a bed and a dresser, otherwise abandoned. 

 

Except for the closet. 

 

Jason felt a shot of adrenaline flash behind his eyes and knew he had found the girl’s clever hiding place. He shuffled towards the closet, her tomb, and raised his axe slowly above his head, bracing the force needed to bury it in her face. He finally reached out with one hand, grabbed the handle, and—

 

_(!! WHACK !!)_

 

The closet doors flew open from the inside and Violet screeched, raising the hammer and swinging it down with all the force she could muster. She heard it whistle through the air before making contact squarely on top of Jason Voorhees’s head. The hammer vibrated in Violet’s hands from the force. Jason groaned and clutched at his face, dropping his axe as a searing pain roared through his skull, blinding him; he had never felt such pain before. The force of it sent him tumbling back, then falling, sprawled on the ground with his eyes rolled back into his head. 

 

Sobbing, Violet stepped out of the closet and over Jason’s body before running back into the hallway. She went as fast as she could down the hall, then the stairs, then to the front door, wrapping her hand around the handle and preparing to sprint into the night. 

 

And then she heard it. 

 

The phone clicked, coughed, and then the dull hum began softly through the speaker. It swung gently on its cord, awaiting Violet, it seemed. Beckoning her. She could have weeped with relief as she stumbled back towards the telephone, smiling crazily as she grabbed it with her shaking hands. She pressed the receiver to her cheek and was infinitely comforted by that soft sound. 

 

The relief was short lived. Violet could hear Jason upstairs, writhing, groaning, and then slowly standing up. She breathed sharply and frantically began to dial the numbers. 

 

9—Jason reached the top of the staircase. 

 

1—One step down. 

 

1—Another.

 

Violet breathed raggedly, dancing in place, stretching the cord as far as it would go away from Jason. The line clicked on the other end. 

 

“Hello, this is 911, what is the nature of your—“

 

“HELLO! MY NAME IS VIOLET CHACHKI AND WE’RE BEING MURDERED!”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“MURDERED! ME AND THE OTHER COUNSELORS, WE’RE AT CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE, PLEASE—“

 

“Ma’am, slow down, I can’t understand you, stop yelling.”

 

“WE’RE BEING KILLED, YOU DUMB BITCH, I’M NOT SLOWING DOWN! HE’S HERE RIGHT NOW, JASON, HE’S KILLING US! SEND HELP!”

 

Jason stalked towards Violet, who pulled away from the phone slightly. “GO TO HELL, YOU SONUVABITCH, YOU JUST GO TO FUCKING HELL!” She turned back to the receiver. “CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE, SEND COPS, CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE, CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE, CAMP—“ 

 

She gasped as Jason ripped the telephone from her hand and began wrapping the cord around her throat. “Hello?” the woman on the other line asked calmly. “Miss, are you still there? What’s going on?” Violet gasped and clawed at the wire digging into her throat desperately, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Jason stared down at her without emotion, and simply raised the phone higher to choke her harder. 

 

“We’re dispatching a patrol car now... Miss, this better not be a prank. Stop making such obscene noises!” Jason growled and grabbed Violet by the back of the neck roughly. He slammed her face into the phone box attached to the wall. Once, twice, three times. Blood spattered over the wallpaper and he could hear the distinct sound of skull cracking and the spongey flesh squelching within, each accompanied by a _ding!_ from the phone’s bell. He let her go and watched her corpse crumple to the floor, her upper body still hanging by the phone’s cord. The line was silent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!! everyone's support is SO appreciated and I'm sorry If it's annoying that I reply to like every comment but I just like to thank y'all personally! we're all on this crazy train TOGETHER!


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short interlude from the events at Camp Crystal Lake to check on Bianca and see things from her side of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY FRIDAY THE 13TH!! For this special holiday we have TWO new chapters! This one is a short break with Bianca and some other familiar faces... it's not really necessary to the story, so you may skip right to the chapter I'll post alongside this one, but I implore you to check this one out at some point!

Wind bit through Bianca’s clothes, including the loose sweater she had thrown over her bare shoulders, and her teeth chattered incessantly in her skull. She squinted up through the light sprinkle of rain (or was it fog?) towards the flickering neon light of her local bar—Lady Bunny’s. The twisted, shining bars were bent into the shape of a coy woman’s skirt being fluttered up by the wind and exposing her voluptuous legs. Bianca blew out a short breath. 

 

She was greeted by a high, tittering laugh somwehere in the distance as she pushed through the doors of the building. “Sonuvabitch, that fucking _wind!”_ she hissed, hanging up her sweater on the nearby coat rack. Music hummed and chirped quietly, accompanied by a few low conversations that hushed when Bianca walked in. 

 

“Girl, your makeup is running!” a pitchy voice squealed. Bianca glared in its direction. 

 

“At least it can run, unlike some people I know, you fat pig.” Bunny and Bianca locked eyes, holding their sneers, before bursting into laughter. Bunny trotted across the floor and squeezed Bianca until it felt like her ribs were being crushed, and let go just as fast, practically dropping her. 

 

“Look what the cat dragged in!” The blonde cried. She swept her hair back and cocked her head to the side, looking the other woman up and down. “God, if I’d ‘a known you’d been in town, I would have at least shaved! What brings you back?”

 

Bianca dusted off her sleeves and pretended to gag at Bunny’s presence before smiling. “Well, I’m bringing back the business!”

 

Bunny’s upturned lips twitched. “What?”

 

“Crystal Lake. The camp.” Bianca held Bunny’s stare and almost felt her voice crack as she spoke. She could see Bunny falter, regain her smile for a few seconds, then let her face fall completely. She looked as if Bianca was dead before her eyes, a ghost, a walking corpse that had stepped into her establishment and demanded it take the whole town with her. 

 

“Camp Blood?” 

 

Bianca turned and saw another woman sitting at the bar. Her black hair was quaffed up in a delicate wave, and she had on a dress far too short for her age. She tapped her cigarette on the ash tray before taking another drag. “You got a death wish, lady?”

 

“Kasha—“

 

“That’s _Miss_ Kasha Davis to you, Bun Bun.” The woman waggled her glass towards the back of the bar and whistled. Dimly lit bottles glimmered on the shelf. “Young lady _,_ you make a mean cocktail. Boy, speaking of which, I’d love another kind of cock, if you catch my drift. Anyhow, do it again, please.”

 

A blonde, large breasted young woman took Davis’s empty cocktail glass and sighed as she grabbed more liquor. “Always a pleasure, Davis,” she murmured. She saw Bunny and Bianca, still conversing, and groaned before smacking her lips. “Bunny, when’re you gonna be done over there? You know I’m no fuckin’ good with your old high school tricks.” 

 

“Hey, you be polite now, Willam,” another girl chirped as she wiped down a nearby table; her apron pockets were filled with tips. That perky Australian accent and natural beauty made her one of the stars of the establishment. 

 

Bunny sighed and tapped her fingernails restlessly on her side, while Bianca crossed her arms and stared daggers at Kasha. “You know I hate that nickname,” she said icily. 

 

“Well, it’s well deserved, isn’t it?” Kasha asked as she swallowed down her umpteenth drink. When met with a deafening silence, she continued. “Nothing personal against you, doll, but that place is cursed at this point. You gotta let it be.”

 

“She’s right, B,” Bunny said quietly. The seriousness with which she spoke frightened Bianca. “We... God, we were _there._ Just kids, Bianca.“

 

Bianca remembered all too clearly. She was there, that first summer. The night it started. She was the one who went upstairs and found those poor bastards, slaughtered where they stood, a look of horror and agony etched permanately onto their faces. She had never gotten that image out of her mind. It came to her sometimes, when she was alone, sitting in the dark with her thoughts, when the picture would flash across her eyes every time they closed in all its grisly detail. She would have to swallow almost horse-tranquilizer amounts of her anxiety medication (to the utmost distaste of her doctor) to get any sleep. And still, they would come, in her nightmares. They came for her to take her with them. And then a group of teenagers went camping years later, and it happened again. She came back. She killed all of them that time. “And that crazy fuckin’ bitch—“

 

“Well she’s dead, isn’t she, Bunny?” Bianca snapped. Her head was swirling. The scent of alcohol stung her nose, and she suddenly very badly needed a drink. “I mean, you all talk like there’s still a threat! It’s not Camp Blood. It’s my _home_ , damnit, and if it’s gonna be my grave, then so-fucking-be it!” She saw blood soaking through their shirts. A jagged piece of blindingly white bone (her rib) stuck crudely out of the girl’s chest. 

 

Bunny shook her head gravely. “Oh, B,” she sighed as she put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder. Bianca was suddenly, genuinely, repulsed. 

 

_(B, it’s not your fault they died. Oh, B, even though it is, it’s not.)_

 

“You need to let that old place go. There’s so much bad shit associated with it _,_ wouldn’t it be better to just leave it all behind?”

 

Much easier said than done. How could she simply leave it all? That place had so much history. The camp had been around for almost fifty years now, serving generations of young children and teens alike, building character and wonderful memories to cherish for a lifetime. It was a family tradition, a gift passed on for decades. Her Daddy owned it, and his Daddy before that, and so on. She couldn’t possibly just end it for something as insignificant as an incident that happened thirty years before. She was dead now, Ms. Voorhees, buried in a shallow grave, nothing but bones and maggots inside of a blue sweater. Everything was tucked neatly into that wooden box, yes, a done deal. Nailed shut. Except for her head, of course. Where was it? Bianca suddenly couldn’t remember.

 

_(But that’s not the only reason, is it? No, not at all.)_

 

Bianca groaned and pushed Bunny aside to reach the bar. She was stumbling as if she was already drunk, but managed to pull herself up onto the stool farthest from Kasha. “Tequila,” she said hoarsely. Willam furrowed her eyebrows, studying the haggard woman before her, and promptly sauntered off. She needed to get back to the camp as fast as she could, but not without a drink. She’d certainly drive off of a cliff from nerves without one. She could just chew an Excedrin and she’d be fine. She grabbed a fistful of peanuts from a nearby container and began unpeeling them hastily, throwing a few down the hatch and crunching their shells underfoot. Bunny watched this sad routine unfold and shook her head. Courtney patted her back and looked on in pity at Bianca, as if she were a recently released druggie from the rehab center. Or a mental. 

 

“Hey, don’t you have to drive back?” Bunny asked. Bianca laughed, almost maniacally, and wiped her lips. 

 

“Listen, you think a little tequila is gonna make me drunk? I’m no lightweight. Just calms the nerves.”

 

“Cigarettes do the same thing. And weed. you oughta try it,” Willam said, her voice twinged with judgement, passing Bianca her glass and accepting the bill the woman slapped down on the counter. 

 

“I quit years ago,” Bianca responded. She picked up the glass and swirled it around, watching the liquid bob and sway, feeling condensation gather on her fingers. 

 

_(What’s the saying? A horse may run quickly but it can never escape its tail.)_

 

Bianca exhaled in a weak attempt at laughter and threw the shot back in one gulp, not tasting it at all, only feeling it slosh down her throat, burning. Scalding her throat in an unbearable pain... and then subsiding, resting warmly in her gut. She took a shuddering breath and rested her chin in her hands. She closed her eyes. Glass tinkled pleasantly in her ear as Courtney swept by, carrying empty beer bottles to the back to toss them out. Her dull headache made of streaming, punching thoughts 

 

_(that seemed to belong to someone else)_

 

was already beginning to subside into nothing more than a bad dream, once again pushed back, far far back, and tucked away into her mental rolodex labelled CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE. 

 

Bianca heard Miss Davis tell a hilarious joke about drag queens fucking straight men and giving them AIDS to the general bemusement of the others in the bar as she swung around in her seat. The jazzy music playing from the jukebox swelled and dipped into fine dancing music. She tapped her foot to the beat. Yes, things weren’t so bad after all. She simply needed a drink and some Good Feelings. 

 

The woman opened her eyes and saw her surroundings seem to flicker for a moment. The walls were painted red

 

_(?blood?)_

 

and a telephone was ringing. Then the image was gone, in less than a second, and Bianca hadn’t the need (or sobriety) to analyze it further. She raised her glass instead, still swaying to the music, and patted the seat next to her, inviting Bunny to sit down. It was 10:10. 

 

“You’re right, girl. I gotta let it go. So can we just have a drink together, for old time’s sake? Pretend shit ain’t so bad?” 

 

Bunny cracked a smile and joined her friend, patting her shoulder. “What happened to your duties, Miss ‘Camp-Counselor-Of-The-Year?”

 

Bianca cackled and pushed Bunny away from her. “Oh, suck my dick. I can stay awhile, can’t I?” Her vision, and thoughts, were surprisingly fuzzy. Had they gotten a new tequila? She hadn’t gotten so quickly buzzed in _years._

 

“Only if you get ab-suh-lootly shitfaced and pay for all of it to keep me in business, cunt.”

 

“You’re on, whore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! this chapter (and much of the story) is very inspired by stephen king, specifically the shining. catch any references? ;)


	6. Breaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter of this Friday The 13th extravaganza! I really hope you like this one, we're so close on the end! P.S, have you noticed my chapter names make almost no sense ever? Oh well.

Trixie Mattel was holding her knife as tightly as was possible and breathing as if she had just run a marathon. They were simply walking back across the lawn, past D.J’s corpse, past the now-working phone box, past the clotheslines, past the fire pit, and were coming upon the main cabin once more. There was nothing around them. Things were quiet, far too quiet for her liking. She longed for the radio to play now, at least imitating some form of human contact, but she hated it all the same. She was in limbo, in between intense fear and acceptance and

 

_(insanity)_

 

grief. Her thoughts ran a million miles a minute. A few times on this short trek, she thought of giving up. She thought of sinking to the wet grass beneath her, on her knees, letting herself bask in the moonlight for one last moment of peace before slitting her wrists and letting herself drift away, on her own terms. It reminded her of some sort of sick, terrible poetry written by a middle schooler, but it felt like her only option in those moments. Was it not the most noble thing to do? If she were to die, she could at least do it in peace, instead of in a hysterical screaming fit as she was gored like a deer and the last thing she saw would be Jason’s mask and the last thing she felt would be the most intense agony experienced in all her short life. 

 

But then she would think of all she had left and her human instinct, its drive to live, would groan back to life. She wanted to fight. She wanted to do everything in her power to make it out alive. That’s when she also had the thought of who she would save, herself, or one of the other counselors, if it came down to it? Would she risk herself, or worse, die for one of them to live? She honestly didn’t know, and that upset her. It always seemed to be the right thing to do, but was anyone that selfless, especially for a slut she’d only met that day? It seemed unlikely. 

 

She lagged at the back of the group, but Katya slowed down to walk alongside her. She grabbed Trixie’s free hand and squeezed reassuringly, but Trixie gained little comfort. She wouldn’t be able to rest until this nightmare ended, if it ever did end. And perhaps that end would be of the eternal variety. 

 

Bob, who was leading the group, suddenly stopped cold in his tracks. Alaska accidentally bumped into him and let out a small yelp before quickly covering her mouth. Bob was staring at the cabin with a look of fear and horror, clutched at his shirt, and suddenly seemed as if he would collapse on the steps of the porch. “Oh, Jesus, no...” 

 

Trixie peered around both him and Alaska and gasped. The door had been bashed open. It was splintered right down the middle, and she could vaguely see the shapes of the chairs and sofa she used to barricade herself shoved aside. It was clear she had not simply moved them to get out—Jason got in. Alaska moaned lowly in agony and began staggering towards the porch, up the steps, passing right by where she and Trixie had been talking just a few hours before. 

 

“Alaska, wait!” Bob hissed. “He might still be in there!” Alaska did not heed his warnings and bolted inside the house as fast as her scrawny legs would take her. The rest of the group ran after the girl, stumbling over toppled bookshelves and crooked chairs, following the blonde streak of hair that zipped in front of them. She called Violet’s name desperately, clawing at her chest in anticipation for what she knew was coming. But there was still that glimmer, that small sliver of hope that she had escaped. Or perhaps, even better, she had killed Jason and called the police and was now simply hiding and waiting to be rescued. But none of them believed it. 

 

Their worst fears were only reassured when Alaska finally tore through the kitchen and into the main room. She was paralyzed where she stood. The group followed behind her and stopped short in a similar fashion. There was a moment—less than a second, really—of complete peace. Nobody moved or made a sound. Their breaths were caught in their throat, where screams could not escape, even if they tried. They gazed at Violet’s mangled body, hanging in an almost kneeling position, her knees just above the floor. Her hands hanged limply at her sides, and a small trickle of blood dripped over her skin and off of her clawed fingers. Violet’s once beautiful face was a lumpy pile of flesh and blood and bone, unrecognizable completely. Sharp pieces of her skull jagged out at horrible angles, her bony white teeth were exposed all the way up to her skull and smashed in. One was buried in her cheek. Pieces of hair and skull and God knew what else was stuck in bits to the phone on the wall. One eye was pulverized and the other bulged and dislodged slightly from its socket. 

 

And then Alaska shrieked, and tore down all of their defenses. It was the most horrible noise Trixie had heard in all of her life, completely inhuman, a primal sound that tore from her throat and seemed to shake the walls around them. This, this thoughtless violence and mutilation, had finally broken them. The shrieks rose from the others, carrying in the dead air, one by one they all screamed and went into hysterics. Alaska fell to the floor and started clawing at her face, shaking, howling, trying to tear the image of Violet from her eyes. Bob started wheezing and couldn’t find his breath, then ran to the kitchen to vomit into the sink. Katya had almost immediately grabbed Trixie and turned her away, pressing the other girl’s face into her chest and sobbing into her hair. Trixie was silent, resting limply against Katya and shaking so violently she almost dropped the knife. 

 

_you promised to protect her didn’t you_

 

_(stop it)_

 

_you said you’d get her out and that she would be safe but you knew it wasn’t true_

 

_(i said to stop it please)_

 

_you let her stay and die so don’t pretend to be surprised you sealed her fate with a hug and a kiss_

 

_(STOP IT I SAID STOP IT GET OUT OF MY HEAD)_

 

“STOP IT! STOP IT, STOP IT, _STOP IT!”_

 

Trixie hadn’t noticed that she had begun to speak her thoughts out loud. Katya hugged her closer, muffling the words, but they still commanded a wave of semi-silence across the room. Alaska was still bawling, on her hands and knees, and now retching violently, but she had gazed up at Trixie crazily and quieted down. Bob staggered back into the living room, wiping spit from his lips, and lowered his eyes so he wouldn’t look at Violet. 

 

“T-Trixie’s right,” he rasped. “We can’t... we can’t let this break us. Or else he’s gonna take advantage of that and we’ll all die. Jesus... Jesus Christ. Calm down.”

 

“CALM DOWN?!” Alaska screamed incredulously, turning on Bob. “HER FACE LOOKS LIKE A FUCKING SMASHED WATERMELON, AND—“ she paused to gag and spit, “AND WE’RE SUPPOSED TO _CALM DOWN??_ ”

 

“ _Yes.”_ Bob grabbed his hatchet from where he’d dropped it and finally brought his eyes back up to Violet’s corpse. Against every signal flashing red WARNING signs in his body, he began to approach her. 

 

“NO, DON’T—“

 

“JESUS FUCK, BOB, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

 

“STOP IT, DON’T GET CLOSE—!”

 

Their shouts and warnings melded together into white noise. The phone’s receiver had been neatly placed back onto its holder. He grabbed the plastic, now slippery with blood, and held the speaker to his ear. The dial tone did not hum. He tried to dial 911, and the rotary dial refused to budge. 

 

“Busted,” he said finally, hanging the phone back on the wall and wincing as Violet’s body twitched from the movement. 

 

Alaska paused screaming and looked up at Bob with wide eyes. “You mean...?”

 

“I don’t think she was able to call the cops.”

 

They all groaned and Trixie sank to the floor. All that work, and for what? Violet to die? Who knew where else they would find a phone, and could they really risk it?

 

“Son of a motherfucking _bitch!”_ Katya hissed, punching the wall she now leaned against. The drywall cracked beneath her fist. Trixie flinched, and Katya seemed to soften. She blew a lock of hair out of her face in a shuddering sigh and rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Okay, okay, we can do this, we—“

 

_Click._

 

Alaska shrieked as the lights suddenly flickered and died. They were bathed in darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight and the campfire that still burned weakly outside. Violet’s corpse looked like a ghoul in a shitty haunted house, about to pop out from the dark and scare them, but it didn’t.

 

“It’s just the power! Shut up!” Bob cried. He ran to one of the light switches and flicked it on and off desperately. Nothing. 

“Shit. It’s probably the breaker... I’ll go check.”

 

“We’ll go with you!” Trixie said dutifully. She switched the blade to her other hand, wiped her sweat-slicked right one on her gown, then switched back. 

 

“Hey, no way are we all going down there,” Katya said. “It’s a death trap. We need some people to stay up here and watch out. Who wants to?”

 

They all raised their hands except for Bob. Trixie lowered hers slowly and sighed. “Okay, me and Alaska will stay,” Katya continued as she helped the other blonde to her feet. Her knees knocked together and she clung to her meat cleaver. 

 

Trixie and Bob descended the pitch black staircase, into the gaping maw of the basement, silent and chilling all the same. She swallowed thickly and clutched the shaft of her weapon, intending to swing at anything that moved down there. She found herself locked in an almost giddy anticipation, practically _daring_ Jason to pop out at her, see what happens. She grinned. 

 

Bob had the flashlight, which had been one of their best friends of late, and calmly moved the beam across the room. There were tools hung up on shelves, A decrepit oaken desk littered with papers, barrels, crates, an old baseball bat, and a puddle filled with stagnant water. No sign of Jason. He breathed out a sigh of relief and continued down, towards the breaker. Trixie held the flashlight with her free hand as Bob opened up the hatch and groaned. “Hm,” he hummed, starting to flip switches and look for any cut wires. “It’s not so bad. This won’t be so—“

 

“ALASKA!”

 

A blood curdling scream and squelch as something hit the wall. Katya started to wail, and Trixie’s mind was immediately thrust into utmost fear and panic. She pictured Katya being mauled by Jason, her calling for Alaska’s help, dying at this very moment. And she had left her! Oh, could she not save anyone she loved? Bob cursed loudly under his breath, and was suddenly thrown into darkness once more as Trixie veered the flashlight away, planning to rush upstairs and save Katya. 

 

“Trixie!” he called. “God damn it, do you want us to stand a chance?! Stay the fuck here, I need that flashlight!”

 

“Buh-B-Buh-But—“

 

“NOW!”

 

Blubbering and crying, Trixie reluctantly moved the flashlight back towards Bob. He began working as quickly as he could, fingers moving too slow for his brain, while Trixie looked up towards the stairs forebodingly. There was some kind of scuffle going on, punctuated by grunts and high pitched screams. And then she heard footsteps, running, thumping above her head, and she had to swallow a shriek as she held her knife in front of her. Then, a barely visible figure emerged at the landing, but it was far too small to be Jason. 

 

“Hurry!” she heard Katya cry, and could have sobbed with relief. But she was hit with a similar wave of grief at the realization Alaska wasn’t with her. 

 

“K-Katya!” she wailed. Katya leapt down the staircase and threw herself in front of Trixie. In front of the blonde hair tickling her nose, Trixie saw him. He stood there, a hulk of a man, with blood and flesh speckling his hands and shirt. Even with his hunched shoulders, he had to be almost seven feet tall, certainly taller than that in Trixie’s fear-warped vision of him. His eyes were completely shrouded in the black holes of his mask by the darkness. She could smell the death on him, radiating from him in sickening waves. 

 

She wept in terror. 

 

He began stomping down the steps, slowly but with determination, towards the group. He had his machete in hand and a knife

 

_(mother’s knife)_

 

in a holster at his waist, sparkling in the dim light. Trixie was screaming and pounding on Bob’s shoulders to get him to work faster, begging him to fix the power or just leave so they could get out. But he refused to quit his work. As Jason approached, Trixie and Katya had no other choice but to back away from him, to the farthest corner of the basement, shrieking as Jason walked confidently towards Bob. He was almost upon him, raising his machete, as Bob shouted obscenities at the monster. He was close—so, so close—but Trixie knew in a moment he would be dead if nothing was done. 

 

So she grabbed the baseball bat leaning against the wall and screamed before charging at the hulking figure. She raised the bat, swung, and hit him square in the back. Jason groaned and paused, dropping his machete with a clatter, and suddenly the lights sputtered back to life. They were then illuminated by the repulsive, aged glow of a single lightbulb, and Bob whooped in victory. “Take that, you sack of shit, you take that and shove it up your zombie ass!”

 

Trixie raised the bat above her head once again and shrieked like an animal, her eyes wide open, the knife pressed comfortably against the bat, and swung. It whistled through the air with a deadly force, but Jason ducked, falling to his knees and sliding across the floor. The bat hit the concrete wall and Trixie cried out from the force richocheting back through her hands, feeling them cramping and bruising painfully. She howled and ripped the bat back into the air, spittle flying from her lips, and turned berserkly in the direction of Bob and Jason. Her pupils were pinpricks swimming in an ocean of blue, surrounded by white that was scattered with red veins. Trixie was aching to make sweet, sweet contact with Jason’s flesh, knocking the Goliath from his feet, enacting revenge in the gruelest way she could. Bob stared in horror before Katya yanked him away. 

 

“ _Trixie! Come on, let’s get out of here!”_ Katya shouted, but it was no use. Trixie could not hear them. She stared down at Jason’s almost pitiful form and shunted the bat downwards against his face as hard as she could. She closed her eyes and felt the old bat splinter and crack in her hands. 

 

Jason howled and fell to the icy ground with a _thud,_ his mask now split almost in half. Trixie opened her eyes, and finally seemed to come to. It was as if she had blacked out from rage and awoken with a broken bat in her hands. Jason Voorhees twitched beneath her, and she gasped, dropping the bat (making sure to not drop the knife) and moving back towards Katya and Bob. 

 

The group hurried from the dank basement, back up the stairs, and blinked from the flourescent lights now beaming down on them. Katya pushed them both towards the stairs, attempting to shield them from the gruesome sight, but it was no use. Alaska was stuck to the wall like a horrible decoration, with a pitchfork driven through her stomach, skewing her to the surface. Trixie turned away, feeling her stomach pitch, and kept walking. 

 

They came upon the staircase leading upstairs. “Come on, he’ll think we went outside, let’s go!” Katya insisted, walking in front of them and beginning to drag them up the stairs. Bob pulled back. 

 

“Are you crazy?!” Bob cried. “What happens if he does come up here? We’ll be stuck!”

 

“We can either fight him or jump out the window,” Katya explained. 

 

“We fight,” Trixie said gravely. She looked at both of them, sick, tired, ruined. “This ends _now.”_

 

Bob looked between the two girls, sighed, and nodded. He grabbed the railing and prepared to ascend the staircase, Trixie and Katya leading him, when he felt a rotted hand grab him by the ankle. He howled, grabbed desperately at the railing, slipped, and fell to his stomach. Jason pulled himself to his feet, still keeping an iron grip on Bob’s ankle, and began to drag him away, towards the basement. 

 

“ _Bob!”_ Trixie shouted. She began down the stairs, but Katya grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her in her tracks. 

 

Bob pounded the floor with his fists and kicked, kicked as hard as he could, trying desperately to escape from his grasp. He flipped over onto his back and reached out to grab his hatchet, but it was just out of reach. He had dropped it at the end of the staircase. And, just like that, he knew that he was done for. 

 

“Ruh—“ he winced and screamed as Jason twisted his ankle, crushing it even tighter. “ _Run! Just go!”_

 

“No, we’re not leaving!” Trixie cried back. She was ready to use her knife against Jason by any means.  

 

“You have to!” he screamed. He looked at the girls pleadingly, his final wish, begging to have it granted. “Please, it’s the only way you’ll get the fuck out alive! Oh, God, he’s killing me. Fuck! _Fuck you! Youfuckinggodamnedsonofawhore, you bastard, you bitch, EAT SHIT AND DIE!”_

 

He gave one final kick, landing it right at Jason’s shins, before Jason grew tired of the game. He grabbed the knife at his side, and plunged it into Bob’s back. Bob yowled and arched up, his eyes rolling cartoonishly, squinting in pain, before he fell face first back onto the floor. He was still. Trixie bawled his name at the top of the stairs. 

 

The blonde was dragged down the hall by Katya, crying for her, and took them into the farthest room. She went to bolt the door shut, and found it had already been broken. What good would it have done anyway?

 

They were the only ones left. Trixie thought of this, and only this, over and over. In a matter of hours five out of seven counselors had been slaughtered. In some sick, twisted form of fate, only Trixie and Katya remained. Why, she wondered. What had they done to deserve to survive more than anyone else? She wished it had been her instead. There was no use living now. Even now, in the throes of her nightmare, she knew if she lived she would be haunted forever. Never again would she be who she once was. 

 

_Eighteen year-old Trixie Mattel is already dead. She died tragically when she found D.J’s mangled corpse. Her family misses her dearly and severely wishes they did not have to see her shell wander their home and impersonate her._

 

But she wouldn’t die without a fight. Without making it mean something. She clasped Katya’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and looked at her dearly. She could hear Jason stomping down the hallway, to take them both together. 

 

“Thanks for making my life worthwhile, in the end,” she said. It was barely a whisper. Tears were sliding silently down her cheeks, and Katya’s downturned lips wobbled. “Pretty fun while it lasted, huh?” Trixie surprised herself by chuckling. 

 

“Yeah,” Katya murmured, wiping her eyes and sniffling. “I just wish—“

 

The door slammed open with a _bang!_ as Jason shoved through it shoulder-first. Trixie didn’t scream. She squeezed Katya’s hand and stared down the man, who only looked back blankly. She could see some of his deformed flesh peeking through the mask. They stood there together, weapons raised, and Trixie began to shout. 

 

 _“C’mon, you miserable, ugly piece of shit, c’mon!”_ She started to step towards the man, swinging her knife wildly, yet tactfully. Stab, swipe, stab, swipe. 

 

_“You ugly fucking pup, you runt, come on! Don’t you wanna kill me, too? Finish your mommy’s stupid fucking job? COME ON! HIT ME! DO IT, YOU COWARD, YOU FILTHY INBRED, YOU—“_

 

Trixie felt Katya yank her back by the collar of her coverup. For a moment, she thought she was trying to save her, and was about to scream to let her go, but something else happened instead. Katya shoved her stumbling backwards onto the nearby bed, falling gently onto the duvet, and pinned her by the wrists. She was stunned. What the fuck was Katya doing? Didn’t she know Jason was about to slaughter them? 

 

“Katya—“ Trixie yelped as Katya jumped on top of her, accidentally driving her knee into Trixie’s stomach and knocking the wind out of the other girl. Trixie wheezed and began to cough, eyes bulging, and squirmed underneath the Russian. Katya simply straddled her waist with a sickening grin. Trixie looked back at Jason, who hadn’t moved at all. Instead, he lowered his machete, and stood obediently in the doorway, looking expectantly at Katya. 

 

“Good boy, Jason,” Katya purred, gently taking Trixie’s knife from her hand. Trixie let her. “I can finish this one.” 

 

_Finish._

 

Trixie looked at Katya, then at Jason, shaking her head wildly. Katya simply shrugged at her, lips upturned in a happy sneer, and stroked her face lovingly. The knife’s deadly glint reflected in her eyes. 

 

Trixie shrieked. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)


	7. Beg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lotta smut. lotta angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!PLEASE READ!!
> 
> Okay, here's where those trigger warnings are coming out full force. Non con elements, blood, death, truth AND trauma, the whole shabang has been isolated in this chapter. HOWEVER, if you can't stomach it but still want to know what happens, I will include notes at the bottom with a short summary of the chapter without the grisly detail. There's one more chapter after this (and possibly an epilogue, if anyone wants one). Thanks everyone!

Trixie’s eyes flew open as Katya kneed her in the stomach for a second time, although it didn’t seem to be an accident anymore. She coughed, squirmed, and opened her mouth in a wide “O” to suck in as much breath as possible. Her soft stomach was already bruising. Tears pricked at her eyes. 

 

Katya pursed her lips and stared down at Trixie, almost in innocent confusion. “Now, why are you screaming?” she asked calmly. “Bad manners. But I guess nobody’s around to hear, huh?” she threw her head back and laughed, and Trixie watched in silent horror. 

 

“Wha...” Trixie began, still gasping for air. “Wh-Why...? Why... What are you...?”

 

“That’s alright, take your time. We’ve got all night, baby!”

 

“What... are you duh-doing?” 

 

Katya tapped her cherry red lips with a finger and hummed, sitting back on Trixie’s thighs. “That’s a bit broad. Could you be more specific?”

 

“Why the fuck are you holding me down?!” Trixie snarled. “Why is—is he _listening to you?!”_

 

“Oh, Jason?” Katya asked. She turned to look at the hulking and murderous figure in the doorway, who was now standing calmly, looking at his machete with a childlike bemusement. Trixie nearly gagged from this image, so wrong, so movie-like. She preferred seeing him

murder her friends. That was more understandable, easy to digest. But now he simply looked like a well behaved little kid in the body of a giant serial killer, donned by a hockey mask, awaiting orders. “Well, we had a little agreement, you see. A deal.”

 

“When I told you all about Jason, I wasn’t lying, you know. He drowned at the bottom of that lake, and his mother—lovely woman—decided to take well-deserved revenge.” Trixie stared at Katya, eyes wide, who chuckled. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, Tracy; ‘Kat, if he died, how is he here?’ Well, I’ll tell ya. I brought him back! Yes, I’m a... Well, you could call it a lot of things, I guess. Witch, psychic, medium, the devil’s filthy whore, whatever you prefer. But that is neither here nor there, what matters is, his mother was calling out to me to bring him back and finish what she started. Well, I said that was fine, I could do that with my hands tied behind me back! But what’s in it for me? And _she_ said I’d get anything I wanted. Money, wealth, power, all of it. She’d secure me on hell’s throne if I asked!” Katya was grinning crazily at Trixie, leaning closer and closer to her face as she told the story. Trixie could feel Katya’s hot breath on her face, and was shrinking away as much as possible. She wanted to look away and couldn’t. 

 

“And you know what I asked for?” Katya whispered. She leaned in close, pressing her lips right above Trixie’s ear and laughing softly. She pushed Trixie’s coverup all the way up her thigh and dug her nails into the smooth, tanned skin. 

 

“ _You.”_

 

Trixie’s breath hitched, and her stomach flipped in a crazy turbulence of emotions. She could either sob in fear or weep with joy. Why was their a conflict in the first place? Why did such a thing, such a twisted sentiment, _move her_ so? She almost couldn’t believe Katya had managed to rise Jason from the dead, but after everything that happened tonight, it was far from impossible. 

 

“No,” was all she said, shaking her head. “No, you... you weren’t like this before! Just now, you were crying! You held my hand, and—and—“

 

“An oscar worthy performance, no?” Katya interrupted with a grin. “Yes, you didn’t suspect a thing. But you shouldn’t be crying, my darling doll!” She leaned down to kiss away the tears rolling silently down Trixie’s cheek. “Aren’t you lucky? I chose _you!_ I saw you as a... challenge. And so I told Jason to leave you be. Isn’t that nice?”

 

Trixie opened her mouth to scream, but stopped in her tracks. She saw Bob, slowly crawling down the hallway, his hatchet in hand, and slammed her mouth shut before looking back at Katya. Thankfully, neither Katya or Jason noticed. “Why?” Trixie asked, keeping Katya preoccupied. 

 

Katya seemed to take the bait. “Well, just _seeing_ you, I knew. You looked so sweet, all pouty and hot, like the cutest little brat. You looked like you were just made to have that sweetness fucked out of you.” Trixie gnawed her bottom lip, feeling her lower stomach buzz with heat against her better judgement. “Mhm. And you ignored Violet’s advances, you even ignored some of mine! You were trying to save yourself, is that right? But I could see in your head. I knew what you really wanted. Speaking of,” she turned around nonchalantly, inspecting a nail. 

 

“Jason, watch out. You didn’t get one of ‘em.” Bob was on his feet now, the handle of the knife sticking up from his back almost comically, and the blood drained from his face. 

 

“Trixie, _run!”_ was all he said. Jason turned around, and once again he was the killing machine Trixie knew. He advanced on Bob, down the hallway, who backed away at a limping, hobbling pace. Jason swung his machete, and Bob leapt back. The blade still made a cut across his arm, and he howled in pain, but did not let up. Jason swung again, this time aiming for his neck, and Bob ducked. The blade whizzed above his head and stuck cleanly in the wallpaper. Using all the strength he could muster, Bob raised his hatchet above his head with trembling hands and blood staining his gritted teeth. 

 

_“EAT SHIT AND DIE, MOTHERFUCKER!”_

 

He closed his eyes, and Trixie knew he had only one chance at this. The man swung diagonally, screamed, and there was a soft crunch as the axe’s head buried inside of Jason’s neck. Jason ripped out his machete from the wall, almost unphased as blood squirted from his jugular, and managed a weak swing towards Bob. Bob did not dodge this one, instead standing quietly as the blade came across his throat. He gargled, spit, and finally fell backwards, his body making sickening thumps as it rolled down the wooden steps. By the time he reached the bottom, he was dead. For good. 

 

_“Bob!”_

 

“Jason!” Katya cried. Jason turned, swaying slightly, and dropped his machete. He grabbed the wooden handle of the axe, and it seemed he would pull it out and be fine, but he faltered. Blood was pooling at his feet now, soaking his clothes, and the eyes behind the mask became tired. He fell to his knees, looking expectantly at Katya, then fell face-first onto the carpet. 

 

“Damnit!” Katya hissed. She turned back to Trixie, who had not run. She was frozen. “Look what you did. Did you really think I didn’t know he was there?” Trixie realized, suddenly, all those horrific and unwanted thoughts of the night had been planted by Katya. She knew the game, and she was playing it. “No matter. I’ll just ressurrect him again. Now, I am going to finish what I started, damnit.” 

 

Katya grabbed the kitchen knife, and Trixie braced herself to be stabbed, to finally have this nightmare end... but nothing happened. Katya instead poised the knife at Trixie’s throat, grinning and making minute movements with her hips. 

 

“I know what you want,” she purred. “You’re such a filthy girl.” Trixie whimpered, feeling the knife’s cool, deadly edge right in front of her throat. She shook her head slightly, making sure not to come in contact with the knife. 

 

“Don’t lie to me,” Katya hissed. She scraped her nails roughly down Trixie’s thigh. Her red lips hovered right over Trixie’s, and Trixie so badly wanted to kiss her that it hurt. She hated it. “What do you want?”

 

“Please, I just want you to let me go,” Trixie whispered shakily. Her eyes were pricked with tears again. “Katya, _please,_ don’t touch me anymore, I’m—“

 

“ _Liar!”_ Katya cried triumphantly. She moved the knife and wrapped a hand around Trixie’s throat, making Trixie yelp. She brought the knife to Trixie’s chest, hooked it underneath the sheer coverup (now spattered with blood), and in one swift movement tore the fabric open, exposing Trixie’s lingerie and her soft, awaiting skin. Katya set down the knife in order to run her hand over Trixie’s chest. She cupped one of Trixie’s breasts for a moment before yanking down the garment in order to expose her fully. Trixie whined, burying her face in the pillow beneath her. 

 

 _“Stop!”_ Trixie cried as Katya licked up her sternum, her face now buried between Trixie’s breasts. “Oh, please don’t make me d-do anything, Katya. ” 

 

“I’m not making you do anything,” Katya responded nonchalantly, lifting her head. “You’re letting me.” Before Trixie could answer, she began to suck a hickey right above Trixie’s nipple. Trixie moaned involuntarily, and quickly bit her hand to keep any more noises from escaping. That’s when she realized Katya had not been pinning her hands down anymore. She could be fighting her off... but she wasn’t. 

 

Katya licked over the purplish mark once she finished before moving onto Trixie’s other breast, starting to leave a hickey in the exact same spot. A strangled noise faltered in Trixie’s throat. Katya smirked and stroked the other blonde’s neck with her thumb, squeezing just slightly before releasing again. She teased Trixie once more by moving her palm over Trixie’s other nipple, and Trixie couldn’t hold back her whine. “Sensitive there?” Katya murmured, beginning to rub the perky bud between her fingers. Trixie panted and started rolling her hips, just slightly, but it was enough for Katya to notice. She lifted her own hips above Trixie’s, who whined and bucked hers even higher to make sweet friction against her needy heat. 

 

“You’re so spoiled,” Katya said, squeezing Trixie’s nipple roughly. Trixie squealed.  “You’re so used to getting what you want, hm? Humping your bratty self on your pillows at home. You let yourself cum as soon as you want to. I was surprised you didn’t finger your needy little pussy in the kitchen after I left.” Trixie made a high, desperate noise and felt her lower stomach exploding with waves of need in response to Katya’s words. She should have been pushing Katya off, screaming, fighting with everything left in her to keep from being violated and killed. 

 

Instead, she only nodded, her lips parted slightly as she gazed up at the other girl. “B-But I’m not a brat,” she insisted. 

 

“Oh?” Katya asked. She lowered her hips once again, but as soon as Trixie began grinding against her she lifted them back up. “Don’t move, then. Let me use you.” Trixie pouted, wetness already spreading between her legs at the words “use you,” but she nodded reluctantly. 

 

Katya continued nibbling and sucking on Trixie’s breasts, now sitting back down on the girl’s hips. Trixie did as she was told and didn’t move, no matter how much she wanted to. Every part of her was screaming for Katya to touch her everywhere she wanted to be touched, ruin her, please her, at least do _something,_ but Katya remained slow and tactful with her movements. But Trixie kept her cool, biting hard on her lower lip to make sure no sounds escaped and no movements occurred. Katya smirked and began kissing and sucking at Trixie’s neck, who simply tilted her head back, allowing more access, until she felt Katya raise her hips once more. Katya brought one hand down to Trixie’s thigh and spread her legs. Trixie gasped as she felt her soaked pussy suddenly being exposed, and was shaking with anticipation, yet Katya ignored it completely. 

 

Instead, she sank back down onto Trixie’s bare thigh, and Trixie’s jaw dropped; Katya wasn’t wearing any underwear. She had been sitting on what was left of Trixie’s clothes, and somehow the other girl hadn’t noticed Katya no longer had panties on under her skirt. Katya gripped Trixie’s hips and sat up, tossing her head back. To Trixie’s shock and utter awe, Katya began slowly moving back and forth, grinding herself against Trixie’s thigh. Her red lips fell open and she let her head tip forward, groaning brokenly. 

 

“Mmn... Fuck, yes,” Katya growled, voice low and gravelly. Trixie’s mouth was still open in utter amazement before a wave of arousal hit her like a truck. She immediately arched her back and keened forward, moaning, gripping Katya’s toned biceps. Her eyebrows were knitted in desperation, and she fluttered her eyelashes in her best pout. 

 

Trixie yelped as Katya smacked her across the face for moving. Her hands flew to her now stinging cheek, and she looked up at Katya with utter betrayal. Katya was unfazed, simply returning to her grinding and digging her fingernails into Trixie’s hips harder. She half-moaned, half-laughed at Trixie. “Oh, you look so sexy when you’re in pain like that.”

 

Trixie whined and rubbed her cheek. The pain was subsiding. “You’re a fucking sicko,” she whispered. 

 

“That’s fair,” Katya said in between her small noises of pleasure. Trixie could feel Katya’s wet folds underneath her unkempt bush gliding across her thigh steadily. “But you’re awfully hypocritical, darling. You’re just as sick as me.” 

 

“I don’t _kill people,”_ Trixie said icily. “Or—Or get off on their pain.”

 

Katya smiled. “That’s right,” she agreed. “Instead, you get off on your own pain.” She grabbed the kitchen knife once more and held it to Trixie’s throat. Trixie squeaked and began to squirm, attempting to edge away from the blade. 

 

“I could kill you right now, if I wanted to,” Katya growled. Her free hand travelled down and hovered just above the hem of Trixie’s underwear. “I could just slit your throat and watch you choke on your own blood. Or, I could make it slow—“ she began to drag the tip of the knife from the hollow of Trixie’s throat towards her sternum, leaving a small cut in its wake, “—painful.” Trixie bit her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut in pain, but her hips were rocking again. Katya dragged her tongue along the scrape, collecting the small beads of blood on her tongue. “You like that I have that power, don’t you?” 

 

“Yes,” Trixie found herself blurting. She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth. “Yes. Katya, now please just—“

 

“Say it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Say what you’re thinking about. What you’re imagining.”

 

Trixie pouted and shook her head diligently. “You know what it is already,” she said, a blush creeping up her cheeks. 

 

“But I want to hear it come out of that pretty mouth of yours,” Katya purred. She pressed a finger to Trixie’s lips to punctuate her sentence, but Trixie simply opened her mouth and grabbed Katya’s wrist, pushing her finger past her lips. She uncurled Katya’s middle finger and pressed it inside as well, taking them up to the knuckle before closing around them and making lewd slurping noises, peering at Katya through heavy lashes. Katya inhaled sharply, exhaling in a strangled _fuck_ before pulling her fingers out of Trixie’s mouth, but Trixie could still feel Katya getting wetter against her thigh. 

 

“Don’t try and distract me, brat,” Katya warned. “Do as you’re told and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

 

Trixie sighed, averted her eyes, and crossed her arms. “I... I imagined you fucking me.”

 

“Go on.”

 

Trixie huffed. “And... and you’ve got the knife right against my throat. There.” 

 

Katya raised an eyebrow. “‘There’?” she mocked. “That’s not all, sweetness, not at all. So why don’t you tell me the truth?”

 

“That was the truth!” Trixie brayed. “Ugh, just—get off of me!” She started to squirm and struggle against Katya, but Katya simply wrapped a hand around Trixie’s throat and squeezed. The more Trixie struggled, the harder she was choked, and Katya started to hump her leg again. 

 

“Look at you twitch,” she moaned. “God. You’re making it hard to be nice to you, baby, you’re so pretty when you’re being hurt.” When Trixie stopped struggling, finally resting limply on the bed, Katya let go and allowed the blonde to gasp for breath. “You gonna be good now?” Trixie nodded lazily, rubbing her sore throat. Katya motioned for her to continue, and Trixie took a deep breath. 

 

“I imagined you fucking me, with the knife right against my throat, and... God. And you were whispering disgusting things in my ear and they were making me so wet—“

 

“What was I whispering?” Katya smirked at Trixie, who silently cursed her for wanting every detail. 

 

“Saying things about how I’m a brat, and a slut, and that I was made to... h-have my holes filled.”

 

“Mmm,” Katya hummed, nodding. 

 

Trixie sighed. “And you were saying that if I moved or tried to get away, you’d cut me. You’d stab me, and... God, don’t make me say it.” Katya simply looked at Trixie expectantly, running her thumb along the blade of the knife, testing its sharpness. Trixie whined fearfully. “You’d cum on the wounds.” she finished quietly. “There, are you happy, you fucking bitch?”

 

Katya only responded with a soft moan, rolling her hips even harder against Trixie’s thigh, rubbing against her swollen clit. “See how fucked up you are? G-God... so filthy...”

 

“Just because I thought it doesn’t mean I wanted it!” Trixie cried. Katya ignored her for a moment, her head lolling back and her mouth hanging open. 

 

“Maybe,” she said finally. “But nobody with such an active imagination would think of all that detail because they didn’t find it exciting in _some_ way. We all have our taboos, hm?” With that, Katya finally slipped her hand inside of Trixie’s panties, feeling her wetness and inhaling sharply. 

 

She rubbed her fingers against Trixie’s lips, teasing her, refusing to delve deeper, and Trixie was whining and trying to grind against Katya’s hand. “You like that, huh, fuckdoll?” Trixie was taken aback by the huskiness and hunger in Katya’s voice, as if a real monster was emerging. It made her so shamefully aroused, but now she didn’t care. 

 

Katya suddenly leaned down to slam her open lips against Trixie’s, groaning into her. The only way Trixie could describe the other counselor’s kissing was _violent._ She bit and sucked Trixie’s lips relentlessly, forcing them open and shoving her tongue down her throat. Trixie gagged and squirmed, Katya twisting her head to allow better access, licking the inside of Trixie’s mouth roughly, pervertedly. Trixie was disgusted, being violated so thoroughly that not even her mouth was left alone; but Katya’s palm rubbing against Trixie’s clit and she was so messy and hot in Trixie’s mouth. It all felt so good and yet so awful at the same time. 

 

Katya pushed her two fingers inside of Trixie, who nearly screamed with the long-awaited pleasure, bucking her hips wildly against Katya. Katya held her hips down, pressing the knife’s tip against her stomach. “Remember what you said?” she purred as she pulled away from Trixie’s lips. Her lipstick was smeared down to her chin. “Don’t move.” Trixie nodded, fluttering her eyelashes and gripping Katya’s wrist. 

 

Katya continued fucking Trixie, curling her fingers against her in the best way with every thrust in. She rubbed Trixie’s swollen clit in little circles with the heel of her hand at the same time, and the sensation was making Trixie’s ears buzz. She was making high pitched, desperate noises, digging her nails into Katya’s wrist. 

 

“K-Kuh—“ she swallowed thickly. “ _Katya._ Katya, I’m gonna cum.” She could feel her orgasm building in her stomach, and Katya began to fuck her harder, her hand glistening with Trixie’s arousal. Trixie tossed her head back and forth desperately. 

 

“No you’re not,” Katya answered, biting right above Trixie’s nipple. She pressed the knife against Trixie’s stomach again, reminding her of the weapon in her hand. “Not until I say so.” Trixie whined and reached down to grab the sheets beneath her. She squeezed them as hard as she could, her knuckles turning white, and cried out.

 

“Please!” she wailed. Her legs were trembling crazily, and she couldn’t think straight at all. All she knew was her desperate pussy and Katya above her. “P-Please, I can’t, I can’t—“

 

“You will.” Katya began to press the edge of the blade down into Trixie’s soft flesh, and the girl beneath her screamed. The mix of pain and pleasure was unbearable, and intoxicating all the same. A small trickle of blood dripped down her side. 

 

“What do you want?! I’ll do anything! Oh, God—“ Trixie groaned and slammed her fist onto the bed. Her pussy clenched around Katya’s fingers, and Katya immediately stopped, taking her hand away from Trixie’s arousal to grab her by the hair and rap the back of her head on the bed’s headboard smartly. Trixie felt a dizzying wave of pain flash behind her eyes, but her desperate cry was due to the lack of Katya’s fingers. She felt empty. She began to keen her hips upwards, completely ignoring and not even caring that it only caused the knife to dig deeper into her skin. 

 

“See? I told you you were a brat,” Katya sneered. “And now look at you. A pathetic, desperate mess. That’s what I like to see.” With that, she pressed her fingers back inside of Trixie, who threw her head back and moaned, babbling “thank you,” over and over again. Katya pumped her fingers steadily, and Trixie was once again shaking violently, so close to the edge it was killing her. 

 

“Whose girl are you?” Katya asked suddenly, eyes earnest. The murderous craze seemed to be gone for a moment, but Trixie simply gazed up at her drunkenly, eyes filled with tears, hardly hearing her. 

 

“Yours!” she shrieked. “Yours, all yours! I’m K-Katya’s girl! Please, oh, God, let me cum, don’t torture me anym-more!” Katya smiled, curled her fingers against Trixie’s g-spot, and bit her neck. 

 

“Cum.”

 

With a scream not unlike the others that had filled the night, Trixie finally came. Her vision was completely blurred, and she was clawing at Katya’s back. The cut on her stomach pulsed and throbbed with her cunt. Her juices were spilling onto Katya’s fingers. She was screaming out for Katya until her voice was hoarse, hips twitching and keening violently. Katya slowed her pace, but didn’t stop fingering her, still keeping a steady pace and kissing Trixie’s jaw. 

 

Trixie was crying as she came down from her high. Her head was pounding with a headache and her wound stung unbearably. However, those were not what she could feel most; her sore, sensitive pussy was still being touched, and the overstimulation was enough to make her sob. That, and the wave of shame and disgust that came over her. She continued to cry, weakly pushing at Katya’s wrist. “P-Puh-lease,” she begged. “No m-more.”

 

Katya responded by moaning, touching her own chest, and grinding down against Trixie’s thigh. Trixie drew her face into a snarl, hot tears burning as they fell from her cheeks. 

 

_“I h-hate yuh-ou.”_

 

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IN SUMMARY (spoilers duh),
> 
> Katya reveals that she is a psychic/witch/whatever that brought Jason back to life for his mother in exchange for whatever she wants, which happens to be Trixie. Trixie realizes Katya has been messing with her all night, just for fun. Bob is still alive and manages to kill Jason with his hatchet, but unfortunately Jason got in a good swing, and Bob dies for good. Trixie is horrified but Katya still seduces her after some threats, dirty talk, etc. Smut ensues. Katya ends up injuring Trixie, not too bad, but still. Afterwards, Trixie is deeply ashamed and cannot tell if she is disgusted by or in love with Katya.


	8. конец

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes to an end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW LAST CHAPTER (probably). ive literally wrote like 22,000 words for this weird friday the 13th that switches violently from really serious to totally ridiculous and not serious at all every paragraph, but apparently people enjoy it so thank you!! This is no masterpiece but I'm glad i got to try something new and really fun so im overall satisfied. There's a lot more info in the end notes so make sure ya read!

Trixie’s chest rose and fell steadily, and Katya was curled up at her side, pressing her face into Trixie’s neck. Trixie sighed and closed her eyes. 

 

_How did I end up here?_

 

After she had asked Katya to stop touching her, the Russian finally did (but not before mocking her. She made a joke about Trixie not being able to handle a round two, but Trixie was too exhausted to argue, so Katya didn’t continue). Katya had slithered off of her thigh with a disappointed whine, but she seemed satisfied. “Poor baby,” she had cooed, tutting, and patted Trixie’s sore stomach. Her fingers came away red. 

And now here they were, Trixie’s clothes slashed to bits and the cut throbbing, and Katya was cuddled up to her like a domestic housewife instead of a crazed sociopath. Trixie touched one of her own bruised breasts and whimpered. 

 

Katya shifted slightly and propped her chin on Trixie’s shoulder, staring up at her with those crazy blue eyes of hers. “What’s wrong, dollface?” 

 

Trixie pouted and held her chin up, pointing to her wound. Katya bit her lip and hummed. “Not gonna talk, eh?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Those are bad manners! Don’t you remember?” Katya sat up, and Trixie winced, preparing herself for some kind of punishment, or maybe that aforementioned round two, but neither came. Katya simply stood, smoothed her skirt, stepped over Jason’s corpse, and walked down the hall. 

 

Trixie sat up and felt a rush of pain slice through her abdomen. She yelped, clutching the sheets beneath her. “Hey, lay down!” Katya called. “I’ll be there in a second.” Trixie debated making a break for it, running out and down the stairs with the knife and getting the fuck out. She could stab Katya in the back and end it all before getting help. But her feet refused to move. She knew Katya would catch her, and she was so tired she could almost fall asleep. So Trixie laid back down on the soft mattress, letting herself sink into the cool sheets and pillows, and once again closed her eyes. 

 

When she opened them, Katya was kneeling over her with a damp washcloth in one hand and a bandage in the other. Winking, she leaned down to examine the wound. It was barely bleeding now, but the cut was still flaming red. Trixie closed her eyes again, but cried out as she felt Katya drag her tongue over the wound. 

 

“O-Ow! Kat!”

 

“She speaks!” Katya said triumphantly. 

 

Trixie pouted again. “What’d you do that for?”

 

Katya simply shrugged and started to wipe away the dried blood on Trixie’s stomach and side with the cloth, then moving on to the wound itself. As she pressed the soapy cloth to the cut, Trixie sucked air through her teeth and grabbed absently at Katya’s other arm. Katya smiled and murmured, “Only gonna hurt for a sec,” before returning to what she was doing. Trixie watched in utter awe as Katya dabbed gently at the wound, her eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. She moved meticulously, and was surprisingly gentle, as if she was performing surgery instead of cleaning a simple cut. Trixie was fascinated. Katya stuck out her tongue slightly as she opened the bandage and placed it onto the now-clean wound before grinning. She looked expectantly at Trixie, who found herself smiling back. 

 

“Couldn’t you just, like, use magic?”

 

“Me? Waste magic on _you?_ Barbara, please.” 

 

Trixie giggled against her better judgement and looked down at her stomach. It still stung, but she felt a little better. She sat up and stared at Katya, batting her eyelashes, gnawing her bottom lip—Now she was the one in deep thought. Katya looked so pretty, with the yellow ceiling light framed perfectly behind her head in a sort of halo. Her curly, dirty blonde hair was spilling over her shoulders, and she had that now soft smile Trixie loved from the very beginning. Katya took her hands in her own. 

 

_(!! snap out of it girl !!)_

 

Katya wet her lips anxiously. “Trixie,” she murmured. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“I wasn’t lying earlier, when I said I really liked you,” Katya continued. She sighed. “I mean, I was kind of lying about everything else, but not that! And there’s a reason I wanted you, out of everything I could have had. Not just sex, although, I mean...” she looked Trixie over and pinched her hip. “That _was_ a factor, let’s be real here. But I want _everything_ , Trix. I want you to be my girl. Like, we can live together! We can get out of here, and I’ll give you whatever—whatever you want. Do you know what I’m saying?” Katya looked pleadingly at Trixie, who nodded slowly. 

 

“I... I think so, yeah,” Trixie said. Katya smiled at her and scooted even closer. 

 

“Good! I mean, just think, Trixie, we can have everything. We’ll be so happy, I swear. We can leave all this behind. I can even...” she paused. “I can make you forget. Forget this experience, I mean. Wouldn’t that be nice? We’ll move far far away and you won’t have to think of a damn thing from this place! We’ll live in some nice little beach house, or cottage, or mansion, and I’ll make you breakfast every morning and buy you such pretty things. You’ll be my little trophy wife, and I’ll be so good to you from now on. I promise, and a bitch never breaks a promise. Come on, Trix. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want _me?”_

 

_(!! stop it trixie come on get a grip !!)_

 

“Yes,” Trixie said absently, her own voice bouncing back at her like it was echoing through a tin can. She felt like she was moving through mollasses, as if her mind was being smothered by a blanket. Everything felt slow and almost dream-like. And she heard laughing. A woman, she was laughing. There was still some kind of voice screaming at her to stop, but it was so dim...

 

Katya couldn’t hold back her excitement. She threw her arms around Trixie and kissed her sweetly. She tasted like blood and cigarettes. 

 

_(!! SHE KILLED THEM !!)_

 

Trixie felt Katya press her back down into the bedsheets, still kissing her. Trixie could see the blood that now soaked the carpet where Bob’s throat had been slit. She was horrified

 

_(!! yes !!)_

 

but oh, she could forget. 

 

_(!! NO !!)_

 

Katya started to pepper kisses down Trixie’s neck, murmuring some kind of Russian lullaby as she did so. Trixie sighed and wanted to sink into the bed with Katya forever. She held Katya close and nuzzled her forehead with a small smile. Katya would let her forget everything and make her so immeasurably happy. Trixie would be all hers and would never worry about anything again. It would be perfect in every sense of the word. 

 

And then she thought of D.J. 

 

“Why him?” she whispered. Katya sat up a bit, staring down at Trixie with a puzzled look on her face. “Why did you have to kill him? What did he do? He was the nicest out of all of us. He was so excited to work here. He didn’t even do anything slutty like Violet and Adore!”

 

Katya jutted out her lower lip slightly. “Babydoll,” she cooed, “Don’t worry about that—”

 

“Tell me,” Trixie demanded. Her lips were drawn back in a snarl. The fog was clearing slightly. 

 

Katya blinked. “I... he knew where all the generators and emergency radios were. I couldn’t let him live, because he might have gotten you guys out. So he died first. There. But it’s okay—“

 

“No!” Trixie cried. “Katya, please, _listen to me._ She’s using you! Ms. Voorhees is _using you!”_  

 

Katya looked dumbfounded for a moment before regaining her confidence, but she faltered. “Ha ha...” she managed weakly. “That’s not a very funny joke, Trixie. Ms. Voorhees is a nice lady who promised me what I wanted. And I want you, remember? And we’re going to have that. You said you wanted it.”

 

Trixie shook her head, cupping Katya’s face. “Katya, baby,” she said. Katya’s eyes widened in confusion at the pet name. “I love you, but this isn’t... this isn’t you. You don’t even know what you’re doing anymore. You’re... you’re so far gone. She’s ruined you, but we might... we might be able to fix it. We might be able to be happy.”

 

Katya looked at Trixie in something akin to disgust, and something else. Fear. “We _can_ be happy!” she cried. “I already told you! We can forget, and... and go live together. God damnit, stop being a fucking bitch about it! I killed them for fun and for you and I’m gonna get what I want!”

 

Trixie shook her head gravely and looked at Katya, rubbing her cheek with her thumb. “No. She was lying,” she whispered. “She’s going to get rid of you as soon as this is over.”

 

“That’s not true!”

 

“Yes it is.”

 

“NO!”

 

“Yes.”

 

_YES_

 

Katya scrambled for the knife but Trixie, with reflex she didn’t know she had, stopped her. She grabbed Katya’s wrist with one hand, and the knife with the other. She poised the blade underneath Katya’s stomach, breathing heavily, the tip rising and falling dangerously close to Katya’s skin. 

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Katya, so just stop it!” Trixie cried. But Katya didn’t seem to hear her. She was staring out the window with blank horror etched into her face. It was illuminated by flashing red and blue lights. 

 

“ _No, no, no, no, no, you PROMISED!”_

 

_AND I LIED_

 

Trixie almost cried out. She could distantly hear some kind of voice in her head. No, she couldn’t hear it. It was more like she could feel it, all around her, swallowing her and invading her like a virus. It was horrible. 

 

Katya looked blankly ahead. “Damnit! I thought—I thought she didn’t call the police!” she cried. “Son of a whore, that stupid meathead, I couldn’t get into his head! Cause he’s dumb as a rock!”

 

_DON’T TALK ABOUT MY SON THAT WAY_

 

“Oh, sorry, he’s dumb as a BAG of rocks!” Katya shrieked like she’d been hit. 

 

_IT DIDN’T MATTER THAT THE POLICE HAD BEEN CALLED BECAUSE WE DON’T NEED YOU ANYMORE, KATYA_

 

Katya laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Y-You need me to resurrect Jason, you dumb bitch! You stupid cunt!” she said, now laughing so hard tears streamed down her face. Trixie wondered if she was actually sobbing. 

 

_NO WE DON’T_

 

Katya’s tears continued to fall, but she went quiet. 

 

_YOU WERE ABLE TO MAKE ME STRONG AGAIN_

 

_MAKE US STRONG AGAIN_

 

_I CAN RESURRECT HIM MYSELF_

 

Trixie could hear police shouting distantly as they began to search the property. They split up, and Trixie wondered when they would find the bodies, or whose they would find first. Maybe D.J, still hanging, or Adore, burnt to a crisp in the fire. Maybe Violet, but they wouldn’t recognize her. Maybe Alaska, stuck to a nearby wall with a pitchfork. Or Bob, still bleeding as he laid at the foot of the staircase. 

 

_BUT IF YOU DO ONE MORE THING FOR US WE WILL KEEP OUR PROMISE_

 

Katya paused as cops started shouting louder. “What is it?” Trixie felt like her stomach was being squeezed from the inside by a cold, dead hand. Katya looked down at Trixie, and Trixie looked up at Katya, locking eyes, and they both seemed to know exactly what Ms. Voorhees was going to say. 

 

_KILL HER_

 

“Police! Open the door!” Distant. Another cabin. 

 

“Oh, Jesus, boss, look, he’s dead!” 

 

Katya laughed once more, staring down at Trixie with a sick smile and winking. Trixie shook her head violently. She knew what was happening. “Katya, no!” she begged. “Don’t, DON’T!”

 

Katya kissed Trixie quickly before staring up at the ceiling. “I may be an evil psycho demon bitch from Hell, but I’m not gonna be used by some crusty cunt like you!” she yelled, laughing crazily. “I’m not your fucking pawn anymore, bitch! _And now I never will be!”_

 

Katya grabbed Trixie’s wrists, spit at the floor defiantly, and shoved the blade all the way into her abdomen. Trixie shrieked, trying desperately to let go of the knife and pull it out, but Katya only held it in place and twisted it. There was a sickening squelch. 

 

“I heard someone! They’re alive! Come on!”

 

Trixie’s ears were filled with the sound of an inhuman scream. She felt it everywhere, in her entire body, in the very air she breathed. Her head was pounding violently. It felt like the universe might split open and destroy the fabric of space-time... and then it ceased. It was all gone, and Trixie was thrust back into her horrifying reality. 

 

Katya was gazing down at her, still with that bright smile on her face, and saying something to Trixie that she could not understand:

 

“Я пью за разорённый дом,”

 

Trixie shook her head, pleading desperately. She thought of them living together. “K-Katya, no! Let me help you! You don’t have to do this!”

 

“За злую жизнь мою,

За одиночество вдвоём,

И за тебя я пью,—“

 

Trixie wailed desperately, struggling under Katya, but it only wriggled the knife deeper into Katya’s innards. “The police are here, we’re saved! I won’t snitch, oh God, I promise I won’t, just let me HELP YOU!”

 

“За ложь меня предавших губ,

За мертвый холод глаз,”

За то, что мир жесток и груб,”

 

“ _GOD DAMNIT PLEASE DON’T FUCKING DIE!”_

 

Trixie began to cry, but Katya kept smiling as she spoke. Blood was pouring forth from her wounds, running down her and Trixie’s hands, and now beginning to come up her throat. Katya’s mouth and teeth were stained red as bloody spittle dribbled down her chin. She gurgled the last few words of her final parting. 

 

“За то, что Бог не спас.”

 

She soon let go of Trixie’s hands, lacking the strength to hold them any longer. Blood was pouring steadily from her mouth now, down her front, staining her clothes. Trixie yanked the blade out and felt the warm gush of blood spill over her torso, but she knew it was too late. Katya choked, sat up shakily, let her eyes roll back into her head, and collapsed. She fell backwards, almost in slow motion, and tumbled off the edge of the bed, hitting the floor with a sickening thump. Trixie wept bitterly. She was the last one standing. The only survivor. Not even the killers made it out alive. But she did not feel lucky. Blood stained her hands and stomach, soaking her bandaid through. Cops were still yelling outside, calling for her. She was saved. 

 

She staggered out of the room, leaving behind her lover’s corpse. She stepped over Jason’s without looking backwards. As she passed one of the hallway mirrors, she stopped, looking into one of them. She saw a deranged, sobbing girl look back at her, eyes wide and bloodshot, trembling like a sick dog, and covered in blood. Trixie felt nothing. 

 

She continued, gripping the railing of the staircase with both arms, feeling like she would go tumbling without it. She took her time, walking slowly. The police’s yelling melded together in a blur, and she felt no rush. Trixie finally made it to the floor and continued her path, not once glancing at Violet’s mangled face or Alaska’s skewered body. She limped towards the broken door, shoving through broken barricades, letting the wood splinter her fingers. She turned the knob instead of stepping through the hole and walked outside. 

 

“HANDS UP!”

 

“GET ON THE GROUND! GET _ON THE GROUND NOW!”_

 

“Stop it, you fucking PIGS, that’s one of my girls!” Bianca’s voice rang out somewhere. Police had practically stormed Lady Bunny’s, telling her they had gotten a distress call from Camp Crystal Lake, and Bianca feared the worst. Unfortunately, she was right. 

 

Trixie looked dumbfoundedly at the officers around her, who were now lowering their guns and beckoning her to safety. She fell to her knees anyway and stared up into the sky, now dotted with twinkling white stars, and bathed in the red and blue lights. Horrible relief wracked her body in time with her heaving sobs. 

 

Trixie knew they were going to find the bodies soon. She had promised Violet and Alaska and Bob they would make it out alive, and now they would go home in body bags. As she raised her trembling hands above her head, she lowered her chin, and started to mumble a makeshift prayer for forgiveness to anything that was out there listening. She was a liar and a murderer. So much blood on her hands. So much she could have done differently to save them. 

 

Bianca was touching Trixie’s shoulders, shaking her, kneeling down in front of her. Trixie looked blankly through the other woman and her lips continued to move. Bianca was whispering something to her, mindless words of encouragement. But she was a liar and a murderer. 

 

So much blood on her hands. 

 

So much she could have done differently to save them. 

 

And as Bianca looked at Trixie’s eyes, the emptiness just barely masking the anguish, she disgustedly found herself wishing Trixie had died alongside them all. If they had all died, Bianca could somehow hide from that. She could drink herself practically into a coma every night if she wanted to, and they’d all be six feet under, far away. She’d move states if she needed to. But Trixie was now a dead girl walking, a talking reminder of Bianca’s neglect, a wind-up doll of trauma she caused. _Pull the string on her back and listen to her have intense flashbacks at the sight of kitchen knives!_ Bianca would have to see her, watch Trixie slowly crumble in grief. Trixie could find her, enact some kind of sick revenge, God knows what else. But worse than that, Bianca would have to see this bright young girl turned into a miserable, tortured soul. It was already here, before her very eyes, and this could only be the beginning! Bianca hated herself for this selfishness, this wish that Trixie had simply been murdered to avoid her future inevitably full of trauma and agony. 

 

Trixie thought differently, in this numb state. She simply wished she had ended it when she had the chance. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the poem Katya says in Russian this chapter:
> 
> I drink to our ruined house  
> To the evil of my life  
> To our loneliness together  
> And I drink to you—  
> To the lying lips that have betrayed us,  
> To the dead-cold eyes,  
> To the fact that the world is brutal and coarse  
> To the fact that God did not save us.
> 
>  
> 
> OKAY here's my info (i mistook my tumblr blog last time somehow this is the actual one i want yall to follow)
> 
> Tumblr: katyashairline  
> Twitter: deleted cause i never use it rip but maybe ill remake  
> Insta: none that matter currently
> 
> !!ALSO PLS ANSWER SOME OR ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS SO I KNOW!!
> 
> What other fanfiction would you like to see from me? More horror? Or maybe switch it up with something domestic and fluffy? Another wild AU? Leave any ideas please!
> 
> Also: epilogue for this one? Yay or nay? Indifferent?
> 
> And then any feedback is appreciated as always. Thank you so much for everything! (And shoutout to the OG Loveroqs!)


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About half a year after the events which took place at CAMP BLOOD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY EPILOGUE... i honestly have no clue what the right way to write an epilogue is so it's basically like another chapter set a bit in the future. Also I reread the first chapter and holy shit. I can't believe y'all stuck through that. I tried to make this a mix of humor and the actual truth AND trauma of Trixie's situation. a man running around in a hockey mask and crazy psychic witches raising people from the dead is pretty silly, but i tried to give it some depth as always. hope you enjoy!

 

Bianca stepped into the nearly empty clothes store and sighed, blinking against the fluorescent lights. She desperately needed a cigarette, but she had already nearly gone through a pack and it was only noon. She had broken her sobriety from cigarettes the very night she found Trixie, broken, shivering on the porch of the cabin. Bianca sighed and stepped up to the cash register. 

 

“Excuse me, ma’am?” she murmured. The teenager at the other side of the counter looked her up and down before smiling brightly. The name tag on her chest read “KIM”. 

 

“Hi! Can I help you with something?” she asked cheerfully. Her voice was thick with a lisp and heavy Korean accent, and her happiness had the forced quality of all retail workers. Bianca looked at her blankly. 

 

“Uh, no—I mean yes, but—“ she sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Does Trixie Mattel work here?”

 

The smile on Kim’s face faltered, then fell completely. She pointed accusingly at Bianca and her voice became icy. “Listen, I don’t know who you are, but you better leave her the fuck alone,” she spat. “Jesus Christ, how many fucking therapists and psychologists and shitty doctors need to come in here before they realize she isn’t coming to your appointments for _a reason?_ You can’t just leave her a goddamn message?!” 

 

Bianca blinked, stunned, and shook her head. She chuckled dryly and smiled at Kim, leaning over the counter. “Kid, I’m not a therapist or some wacko doctor. I swear on my mother's nane I’m not affiliated with anything. I’m just a friend of Trixie’s, and I wanted to see her.” 

 

Kim looked warily at Bianca and sighed. She sat down on a nearby stool, putting her head in her hands. “Oh God, I’m gonna get fired,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. But I feel like they’re always coming in here looking for her, and...” Kim lowered her voice, looked around, and leaned in. “It’s really not good for her health. Do you know about...?”

 

“Yes,” Bianca answered. “All too well. That’s why I’m here. It’s been... God. Almost a year since I’ve seen her.”

 

Kim snorted and looked towards the back, running a hand through her thick black hair. “Yeah,” she said. “Me, too.” Bianca swallowed thickly, a wave of shame floating through her. She was used to it. 

 

Kim sighed shakily and held her head in her hands, and for a moment Bianca thought she might start crying. But she didn’t. Instead, she beckoned Bianca behind the counter. “You’re lucky nobody’s here on Tuesdays,” she whispered, leading Bianca to two double doors labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY. 

 

“Go easy on her, huh? Whatever this is about,” Kim pleaded. She grabbed Bianca’s hands and squeezed. “I saw so much of it. The aftermath, I mean. God, she just cried for days. And then... she stopped. She never cries anymore. And that bitch is a motherfucking crybaby!” Kim dropped Bianca’s hands and huffed. “I wish she was crying. It’s better than seeing her fake it all the time. Oh, Trixie...” She wasn’t even looking at Bianca now, so totally lost in her own thoughts, seemingly talking to herself in an attempt to rationalize it all. Bianca felt a stab of guilt. Not only had she indirectly traumatized Trixie, but now it was spreading to everyone Trixie knew. She felt sick to her stomach, imagining what her parents must be going through. Trixie gliding silently from her room to the kitchen, never smiling, no longer laughing, then disappearing once more. Sad guitar music drifting from behind closed doors and filling the nearly empty home that she grew increasingly frustrated with, pausing, slamming the strings when they buzzed, and then silence. Trixie hadn’t gone to college in the summer. She stayed at home with her mom and stepdad and almost never left the house. Her mother wept bitterly for her and begged, prayed to God, that her daughter would feel better. She had done all she could. And Trixie’s friends, coworkers, were forced to be on the defensive and drive away her troubles. 

 

“She should be back here, either working on our new shipments or sitting somewhere writing music.” Kim made a pleading motion with her hands and smiled. “And if you’re lying to me about who you are, I’ll knock your skull in.” 

 

Bianca laughed and joked, “I really could get you fired, you know.”

 

“Please. You’d be doing me a favor.”

 

Bianca looked around and pushed through the double doors, walking into the small back area of the mom ’n pop shop. The lights flickered dimly and thrust itself on the unpainted concrete walls. Dusty shelves lined the walls, and the place smelled completely rank. A small bug skittered across the floor and dove under one of the shelves as Bianca walked, her heels clicking hollowly against the cold floor. _Jesus_ , Bianca thought, _is this where Trixie holes herself away at work?_

 

Bianca swallowed and continued down the narrow corridor, looping around and weaving between the isles. It seemed like the place used to be another part of the store. “Trixie?” she called softly. No answer. Bianca’s blood ran cold. A moth flew onto one of the ceiling lights and casted a tiny shadow at her feet. “Trixie, are you here?” 

 

Bianca found herself rapidly walking, both out of fear and worry for Trixie’s absence. Her mind was already racing to the worst, and she had to stop herself from panicking and backing out of the room, as if it was haunted. She took a deep breath and continued on, calling Trixie’s name. The area was so small that Bianca was sure if Trixie was there she would hear her. Why wasn’t she answering? 

 

Then, she spotted the back door, tucked away in the very back of the room, surrounded by shelves and boxes. Bianca approached the door, smoothed her skirt, and grabbed the handle. She had to jerk and twist it roughly before managing to pry it open, the wood banging against the wall when it was thrust open. Sure enough, Trixie was there, crumpled up on the step with her knees drawn up to her chest, blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail. The girl gasped and jumped, nearly tumbling off the steps, and whipped her head around to look at Bianca. 

 

Trixie clutched her chest, wrapping a hand around a necklace at her breast. “Jesus!” she said. “Oh, Bianca, please don’t scare me like that. God.” She released the pendant slowly. It was a pentacle surrounded by a multitude of stones and crystals, which Bianca eyed carefully for only a moment—it didn’t seem at all like jewelry Trixie would wear—before looking Trixie back in the face. 

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Bianca apologized, smiling softly. “That stupid door is jammed up so tight, I...” she laughed, then faltered as she saw Trixie’s confused, tired face. Bianca sighed. 

 

“I just came to, uh, check on you. No, I’m not admitting you to a hospital or anything!” she reassured quickly, remembering what Kim had said. “I honestly have no clue about that. I was just... in town. So I decided to check on you, see how you’ve been holding up.”

 

Trixie stared at Bianca for a moment with pitiless eyes, then patted the step next to her. Bianca smiled gratefully and sat down. She started fiddling with her skirt, bunching up the fabric in her fingers, restlessly gnawing her lower lip. Trixie was quiet, and stared back out into the alleyway. 

 

“Do you want a cigarette?” Trixie asked finally. Bianca turned and her eyes widened. 

 

“You smoke?!”

 

Trixie’s lips pulled back into a wicked grin. “No.” She pulled out a pack of Winstons from her uniform pocket and gestured it to Bianca. It was completely full. Bianca scrunched up her nose. 

 

“Winstons? Really? Jesus, you really don’t smoke.” Bianca still took one of the cigarettes and her own lighter from her back pocket. 

 

Trixie laughed through her nose and closed up the box before putting it back in her pocket. “I tried to start,” she admitted as Bianca began puffing smoke. “Everyone says it really calms the nerves. So I said, fuck it. I could use something to do that. I went to the gas station and bought some. Winstons. But...” she swallowed. “The taste. Something about it just set me off. I was coughing and crying and I threw it right into the street. I brushed my teeth so hard my gums bled.” Bianca took the cigarette from her mouth and looked warily at the teenager next to her. She knew all about being SET OFF. That’s what the doctor, and subsequently her and Trixie, called it. The words appeared to her as big, menacing letters. Certain things just SET THEM OFF. Sometimes it was consistent, like the sound of sirens or the sight of blood. Sometimes it wasn’t. Things they had done a million times, like driving, SET IT OFF. And sometimes it wasn’t so bad, just becoming a little detached from reality for awhile. And other times it was like it was all happening right in front of them again. Neither were good, and it was always a crapshoot at which would happen next. 

 

“But I still carry them,” Trixie explained. “Just in case, I guess. Sometimes bums hang out in this alley and ask me if I’ve got any smokes or spare change, and when I do, sometimes they talk with me. They’ll tell stories or invite me to have dinner with them, with what little they have. I like talking with them.” Bianca just stared at Trixie like she was some kind of 

 

_(ghost)_

 

alien. Looking wistfully at the grime and graffiti on the alley walls, her knees bouncing gently, reminiscing about hanging with bums and lepers. She had a pentacle around her neck and multiple bracelets, even some anklets, wrapped around her wrists and ankles. Bianca wouldn’t be surprised to find out Trixie wore studded leather jackets and ripped jeans and fishnets in her spare time. But looking at Trixie’s still beautifully curled blonde hair and bright pink faux diamond earrings, Bianca found it unlikely. 

 

Trixie had started gnawing on the metal pentacle absentmindedly, eyebrows furrowed, seemingly lost in deep thought. “Jesus. When do you get off work?” Bianca asked. 

 

“Oh, in a couple hours,” Trixie mused, looking back towards the door. She smiled shyly. “Shit. I should probably get back to it, huh?” 

 

Bianca took a deep drag from her cigarette and stood up. “Couldn’t you just get off a little early? That girl Kim seems nice enough,” she said. “She could cover for you, right?”

 

Trixie pressed her lips together and fiddled with her bracelets. “I guess,” she said slowly. “But I feel bad. I don’t want to make her work more than she already does, y’know? She’s picked up a lot of slack for me.”

 

Bianca grinned and held up a wad of cash. “I’ll make it worth her while, kid. Now let’s go get some dinner, huh?” 

 

—

 

Trixie gazed absentmindedly out of the car window, chewing her fries, snuggled comfortably against the leather seat. Bianca thought she looked tragically beautiful, the blue neon lights casting a glow over Trixie’s exhausted figure. Bianca mused that, had they not known what happened, a stranger would have no idea about the internal twister wracking Trixie’s mind. 

 

“I’m hoping to still start college next semester, or next year,” Trixie was explaining. “I honestly can’t wait to get out of my stepdad’s house.”

 

“Yeah, I would, too,” Bianca sympathized as she sipped her milkshake. “Just remember you’re always welcome at my place, alright? Y’know, if you ever can’t handle your parents’ place.”

 

“Thanks,” Trixie said with a small smile. They both went quiet for a few moments, the only sound surrounding them being the crinkle of wrappers and soft chewing. After a few beats, Trixie said “I hope I never have to go to another funeral again in my life.”

 

Bianca winced slightly, but Trixie didn’t notice. She turned to the older woman, cocking her head almost innocently. “I know,” Bianca whispered gravely. “I hope so too. I told you that you didn’t have to go to all of them. Six people is... is a lot, and right after everything you’d been through—“

 

“I did. I did have to go,” Trixie affirmed, gripping her own thigh. She looked unwaveringly at Bianca. “You know as well as I do I did. I was the only person who saw what happened and lived. I saw... I saw most of their last moments. Their last words. Did you hear what Violet’s last words were?” Bianca shook her head, suddenly feeling trapped inside the stuffy car. Trixie continued placidly, sort of chuckling. “‘Camp Crystal Lake, send cops, Camp Crystal Lake, Camp Crystal lake, Camp—“

 

“Good God, they told you that?” Bianca interrupted. Trixie shook her head. 

 

“I listened to the 911 call.”

 

“No, you didn’t—“

 

“—yes I did, her parents wouldn’t, but I had to hear—“

 

“Trixie!” Bianca barked, slamming her hand on the steering wheel. Trixie stopped and looked at Bianca fearfully, her eyes were no longer glazed over and now wide and frightened. “Why would you do that to yourself?” Bianca continued. “Jesus Christ. You’re already traumatized. We’re supposed to avoid what sets us off!”

 

“Well, it was hard when I had to go to six fucking funerals,” Trixie mumbled, brushing some hair out of her face. “Six. None of them were open casket. Especially Violet’s, God, how could they? And I had to see all those families grieve over their kids. Some of them were nice to me, like D.J’s parents, they begged to hear about it. They were crying and praying for their son, and they still invited me to coffee. They said it was God’s Will that I was still alive and that they couldn’t be angry with me.” Trixie faltered. “I never even knew they could be angry with me, Bianca. I didn’t—I did everything I could, I tried so hard to save them all.” 

 

“Trixie,” Bianca said quietly, grabbing Trixie’s hand. “Honey, you can’t put that responsibility on yourself. We’ve talked about it before. None of it was your fault. It was Jason, not you, none of you kids did any of it. If there is a God, or some kind of fate, then you’re here for a reason, and if not... you were just lucky. Either way, you can’t help it.” Trixie turned her head and lifted her chin in an attempt to swallow the lump in her throat. She felt so guilty she could scream. It wasn’t just Jason, but Bianca didn’t know that. She couldn’t know that. It would ruin everything. 

 

When the police questioned her in the hospital, Trixie debated telling the truth. Explaining that Katya was the mastermind behind it all and that she had orchestrated the murders and even assaulted her. But she kept her mouth shut. She said that Jason had managed to stab Katya on the bed before Bob came in with the hatchet, finally killing him, and Trixie had her wound tended to before the final killings. The police didn’t suspect a thing. Based on the evidence like Violet’s call to the police and what they found at the crime scene, Trixie (and much less Katya) was hardly even considered to be the murderer. She wasn’t, but something in Trixie kept telling her she was. That this lie proved that tenfold. 

 

“But some of them did get angry at me, Bianca,” Trixie whined. “Violet’s parents and—and Alaska’s, the way they looked at me... I could just t-tell they wanted me dead in the g-ground instead of their daughter!” Trixie began to weep softly, holding her head in her hands and sniffling. Bianca immediately held Trixie close to her, stroking her hair in a maternal fashion. 

 

“Trixie, they were probably just grieving,” she explained. “Please don’t take it to heart, you already have so much...”

 

Trixie knuckled her tears, smearing her mascara. “At least they had p-people there,” she whispered. “K-Katya’s funeral was the worst. God...” 

 

“Yeah, why was that?” Bianca asked innocently, recalling the funeral in vivid detail. 

 

“I don’t _know,”_ Trixie whispered under her breath. “They said she had no living relatives, that her parents had been missing for years. No friends, either.”

 

Trixie sniffled and felt a new wave of tears come over her. The service was small and only consisted of Bianca, Trixie, Trixie’s parents, and a priest to lead the service. Trixie had to leave early. The sight of the casket and the priest wishing Katya a journey to heaven made her sick. She ended up keeling over halfway through a prayer, falling to her knees, and puking before being ushered home by her parents. She was sick in bed for about a week, shivering and sweating in her bed, plagued with nightmares where Katya beckoned to her. The dreams varied, but almost always had the same ending. Sometimes they would be together happily, no evidence of the Crystal Lake incident in their lives or a hint of psychopathy in Katya. Katya would hold Trixie gently, kiss her sweetly, and Trixie would cook for Katya and they would own a little house together. It would be the perfect white picket fence moment, and then Katya would take Trixie’s cooking knife and plunge it into her abdomen. Blood would pour from her mouth and eyes and nose as Trixie screamed and tried to tear away, and Katya would smile her sickening smile as her teeth turned yellow and crooked and fell from her mouth to reveal rotted pincers or fangs and maggots crawling in her cheeks. She would kiss Trixie again, blood still pouring from her mouth, and force Trixie to stab her, over and over. Then, just before she was about to stab Trixie, she would say something, and Trixie would wake up screaming. She could never remember what it was Katya told her after she woke up but it left her feeling sick nonetheless. 

 

Because nobody claimed Katya as their own, Trixie soon realized that they would be getting rid of her things. So she dragged herself out of bed one morning and begged her parents to ask the police if she could go to Katya’s apartment to take some of her things. Trixie couldn’t bear to see it all thrown out like that. Due to Trixie’s grief and insistence they were friends, the police gladly allowed Trixie to peruse the apartment and take “as much shit as she could grab.” Trixie stepped into Katya’s small home, a room just above a night club she was renting for practically pennies, and immediately began to cry. It was all so overwhelming Trixie feared it might SET HER OFF, but the young woman held it together. She marveled at the state the apartment was in, completely destroyed and messier than anything she had seen in her life. There were small taxedermied animals on her coffee tables and walls that had multiple pieces of jewelry hanging off of them. Clothes were strewn helter-skelter upon the floors, wall hooks, stools, chairs, the television; just about any surface she could see. Makeup was destroyed all over her bathroom, from left open lipsticks to crushed eyeshadows. It all smelled like stale cigarettes and coffee, Katya’s constant underlying scent. There were sticky notes with chicken scratch writing around her desk, and multiple drawings done by hers truly thrust upon the burgundy walls. It was seldom furnished except for a single suede couch and a mattress in Katya’s bedroom, along with a few disgustingly outdated tables and lamps. 

 

It was the most beautiful place Trixie had ever seen. 

 

And then, there was the jackpot. Katya’s apartment, most specifically her bedroom, was covered ceiling to floor in Wiccan, Satanist, psychic, medium, and multiple other spiritual items. Books, candles, charms, notebooks, spells, all of it. There was a Ouija board on her floor, too. Trixie took as much as she could carry with her back home. Ever since, her room had become a bastard clone of Katya’s, messily lined with the Russian’s things intermingling with Trixie’s pink, florals, and cutesy merchandise. Trixie had found the necklace with the pentacle and instantly felt the need to wear it. She later found out, while reading some of the worn books Katya left behind, that the necklace supposedly carried protection from spirits and psychic attacks. She never took it off. 

 

Bianca sat quietly as Trixie gazed into the night, lost in her thought. Bianca sighed. Katya was the most touchy subject for Trixie, and she assumed it was because Trixie had some kind of thing for the Russian. But she didn’t want to press it and SET HER OFF. 

 

“I should get home,” Trixie said finally, crumpling her wrappers and shoving them into the empty paper bag. “My parents might worry. Thanks so much for taking me out here and talking, Bianca. I really do appreciate it.”

 

Bianca sighed. “Well, you are a real piece of work, I’ll tell you that,” she agreed. She smiled. “But we’re in it together. And your auntie Bianca has to get you out of your head sometimes. Work is rough, especially with your life.”

 

Trixie laughed genuinely, for what must have been the first time in weeks. “Tell me about it.”

 

—

 

“Trixie?” Mrs. Mattel called from the kitchen as Trixie snuck inside the house. “Is that you, hon?” 

 

“Yeah, mama,” Trixie said, hurrying down the hall. Her stepfather sat comfortably in his arm chair, watching the television and not so much as glancing at Trixie. 

 

“Are you hungry? I made—“

 

“No thanks, mama. Bianca got me dinner.”

 

“Ah.” Mrs. Mattel wiped her hands on her apron and watched her daughter flee into her room, closing the door swiftly. She sighed. 

 

“Bad influences, baby,” her husband said from the living room. He took a swig of his beer and peered at his woman. “She’s fucked up six ways to Sunday. I don’t appreciate all that satanic shit she’s got in her room, either. Not in a good Christian household like this. She needs some discipline.”

 

“Oh, give her a break, darling,” Mrs. Mattel cooed, sauntering into the living room and rubbing her husband’s tired shoulders. “She’s just a teenager. And she’s been through so much. She’ll be off to college soon, so don’t worry too much, okay? She’s just fine.”

 

—

 

Trixie lit the candles in her room bearing the images of multiple saints and the messiah himself, all retrieved from Katya’s apartment, and sat down on her floor. She had the lights turned off, and darkness stung her eyes, creeping in from the corners of the room. 

 

Trixie removed her necklace. 

 

She took a deep breath and lit a bit of incense before pulling the Ouija board from Katya’s apartment out from under her bed. She wiped it clean with a damp cloth, opened a worn book of spells at her knee, and recited;

 

_“St Nicholas of Tolentino, light the lamps._

_St Christopher, light the lamps. With the permission of the IAO SABAOTH, we make safe and sacred this space that we may traffick with the Honoured Dead_.”

 

Trixie closed her eyes and allowed her mind to go empty. Footsteps creaked behind her somewhere, distantly. She felt her chest swell, and then, somewhere, a voice. 

 

_YOU DON’T HAVE TO USE THE BOARD, DARLING_

 

_Trixie shook her head. “Do you have to get in my head every time?”_

 

_YES_

 

_“Jesus.”_

 

_DO YOU WANT TO DISPEL ME? HA HA. JUST KIDDING. ANYWAYS, WHEN WILL YOU DO IT?_

 

_Trixie sighed and tapped her fingers against the wood beneath her fingers. She chewed her lip. “Soon.”_

 

_HOW SOON?_

 

_Trixie glanced at the alarm clock beside her bed. It was 9:30._

 

_“Are you free tonight? Midnight?”_

 

_IS THAT A JOKE? I’M DEAD, BITCH. NOT EXACTLY BUSY_

 

_Trixie smiled, and she thought she heard Katya cackle somewhere. It was hard to tell, her voice was so faint. “I’m just nervous. Not exactly gonna be a good look if someone catches me digging up graves, Katya.”_

 

_NEITHER IS YOU SUMMONING SPIRITS IN YOUR ROOM. I’LL KEEP AN EYE OUT, DON’T WORRY_

 

_Trixie made a face and thumbed through her book, running her fingers over the pages. “You’re sure it’ll work?”_

 

_I RESURRECTED JASON. AND YOU’VE GOTTEN PRETTY GOOD AT THIS. I’M CERTAIN IT’LL WORK_

 

_Trixie sighed in defeat, and the candles around her began to flicker slightly. She was already planning out her route to the graveyard, after her mother and stepdad were long asleep, shovel in hand. She thought of Bianca and felt an intense zap of guilt. Swallowing thickly, she tilted up her head._

 

_“Tell me why the fuck I’m doing this again, Katya?”_

 

_I CAN’T ANSWER THAT ONE, MY DARLING DOLL. CLOSURE? LOVE? GOING A LITTLE CRAZY? MAYBE I’LL HELP YOU BRING ‘EM ALL BACK. YOU’LL ONLY FIND OUT ONCE I’M BACK THERE. WITH YOU. SO DO IT_

 

The candles were flickering rapidly, growing and nearly bursting with flame, then almost blowing out, casting a sickly glow over Trixie. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed shakily. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered. Katya was cackling at her again. She shoved the planchette to the GOODBYE section of the Ouija board roughly, and it all went silent. The candles were blown out. Trixie sat there in the dark, breathing heavily, and slowly grabbed her pentacle necklace, attaching it securely around her neck. She then took her knife from her bedside table and looked at it with a sense of regret already bubbling in her stomach. 

 

“Have fun back in my turf, bitch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAND.... sort of another cliffhanger, sorry folks! idk if that makes the epilogue pointless but i wanted to leave a taste of what their lives will be after all this! thank you SO much again for reading, and im so excited to write more. still always open for suggestions and thoughts in the comments! <3 
> 
> While you’re down here, check out some really cute fanart! https://hasa-diga-quicheowai.tumblr.com/post/173828043044/crystal-lake-doodles


End file.
